Unconventional
by Unliteration
Summary: When you get cut you bleed, but when something hurts you inside it's different. Bubbles x Buttercup aftermath. Continuation of Unconditional.
1. Unconventional

**Unconventional**

When you get cut you bleed, but when something hurts you inside it's different.

Unconventional can be regarded as both a literal sequel to Unconditional, written by myself, and a spiritual one to the story inspiring it: DragonShadow's Conditions of Love. CoL is a one-shot short story that assumes a lot of build up prior to the events depicted. Unconditional is an attempt to more thoroughly explore that buildup in addition to the events themselves. However, Unconventional explores the aftermath. It may not be strictly necessary to read either of those stories to understand Unconventional, but I do recommend reading Unconditional first as it will likely enhance the potential enjoyment.

Unconventional focuses more on inter-personal conflict than its predecessor. Unconditional focused almost exclusively on the internal, though there is a dose of that here as well. Of necessity, Unconditional was told primarily from Buttercup's angle. Unconventional takes a break and adds perspective by focusing on the points of view of other characters.

Even so, the focus is not on the superheroics of the girls. It still happens and may be referenced or alluded to, but it never gets in the way of the rest of the story. Be thankful, else this monster would be even longer.

As with Unconditional, I do not expect or intend that this story will be enjoyed by a universal audience. For that matter, personally I neither support nor condone relationships of this sort, and I understand they are, as a rule and for various reasons, unlikely. But this is fiction, and as with all fiction, some will enjoy it, some will suspend disbelief, and for everyone else: I'm sorry to have wasted your time.

**Chapter 1**

Blossom touched down on the driveway of the Believe residence and felt the hood of an open-top convertible. It was as cool as one would expect on an early September afternoon. Frowning slightly, she walked to the door and knocked loudly.

She'd called several times before coming and received no answer. Bubbles was supposed to be waiting here for their wayward sister Buttercup, whom Mike Believe had insisted on tracking down. Blossom had let it slide this time, in part because Bubbles trusted him.

More so, Blossom had to admit Mike had a closer connection with Buttercup than she did, now. Until last summer, even Bubbles and Buttercup had been distant from each other.

Mike answered the door with no trouble. Why not the phone, Blossom didn't know. She'd never really approved of him, even when he and Bubbles were an item. Long hair, usually greasy, dyed black, and an attitude to match. He'd developed confidence bordering on arrogance.

He was a good student and, Blossom had to admit, a more decent person than most. Still, he had a touch of rebelliousness about him. As someone who dedicated most of her life to upholding the laws and values of her society and the world, Blossom had to admit she was relieved when Bubbles decided to break off her relationship with Mike. Some people were apt to jump on the tiniest faults in Blossom and her sisters, and it was best to not fuel the flames with their choice of relationships.

Bubbles and Mike were still, as they had been for years, best friends. When Bubbles had decided to wait at his house to meet Buttercup, it hadn't seemed unusual. With Mike's parents out of town for his aunt's wedding it wasn't even imposing their family problems onto anyone else.

Everything else about the situation had, however, been unusual. Last night, Bubbles hadn't even come home. Blossom still didn't know where she'd went after school. Even though Mike had claimed Bubbles wasn't here last night, Blossom suspected otherwise.

Even that could be explainable or understandable, but Blossom thought she'd waited patiently enough for answers to the rest of her questions. Just before school this morning those questions exploded unbidden out of nowhere. Now, hours after final bell, it was high time to get those answers.

"Hello, Mike," Blossom greeted sardonically as she shouldered her way inside. Walking straight into the living room, she didn't spare him the courtesy of a second glance as she spoke. "I see you've been home for a while. Why am I only getting your answering machine?" Not seeing either of her sisters in the living room, she moved to the kitchen before waiting for an answer.

She could have just peered through the walls and checked the whole house, but as a general rule she and her sisters avoided activity like that. They were eighteen now (as of two days ago, at least) and had learned years ago to respect the privacy of each other as well as other people. If Blossom thought something truly wrong was happening, she'd do it in a heartbeat, but this was a harmless personal matter. For now, at least.

"I guess the volume's down," Mike answered coolly. He leaned on the kitchen doorframe and pulled out a cigarette. Blossom stood next to him, her arms crossed, as he lit it up. It was a habit not even Bubbles liked, but even she'd given up on lecturing him. "I thought they were all hangups," Mike finished, exhaling smoke into the other room. Rather than look at Blossom, he stared at the other side of the door frame.

Blossom didn't doubt he was blocking her way intentionally. She also suspected his excuse was a lie, but that didn't matter right now. "Are either of my sisters here?"

Mike smiled and took another drag. "I found Buttercup a few hours ago. I just got back about an hour or so ago, myself."

"Is that a no?" Blossom asked, maintaining firmness through her patience. Or vice versa.

"Well, this is an honor. You choose to come through me when you can just as well figure it out for yourself."

"I can? Thanks." Blossom pushed past Mike. She wasn't rough about it, but he did lose balance and fall on his side. She opted to glide up the stairs instead of walk, touching down on the thickly carpeted hallway of the second floor.

"Hey--hey, wait! Hold on a minute!" Mike cried from behind her as he scrambled to his feet and up the stairs. Blossom smiled, ignoring him as he'd ignored her. She strode down the hallway to Mike's room. She'd never visited Mike, but she know the room from coming to get Bubbles a few times over the years. A task not unlike her present one.

"I said hold on a sec!" Mike called again as he grabbed Blossom's shoulder. He tried to spin her to face him, but Blossom stiffened up and didn't shift an inch for his effort. Superpowers had their perks in everyday life, too.

Blossom opened the door wide, blowing a few papers scattered on the bedroom floor in the process. Her gaze was momentarily distracted by those. Then it was distracted much more forcefully by other articles. Literal ones.

Her eyes shot from the strewn clothes and undergarments when she saw hurried movement out of the corner of her eye. By that point, that area of the room was already next on her list anyway.

Blossom's eyes widened and she recoiled slightly. She didn't open her mouth or gasp. The shock was too great. Buttercup sat in the bed, covers held up to conceal herself. Beside her, in a similar state, sat Bubbles, her pigtails undone and hair resting just above her shoulders. They looked at her with as much surprise as Blossom looked at them, plus a little fear (or a lot, in Buttercup's case).

Blossom closed the door and spun, leaning against the wall beside it. She faintly heard scrambling and hushed voices, though the blood rushing through her ears probably muffled the sounds more than the wall behind her.

For almost a minute, there was no motion in the hallway.


	2. Out and About

**Out and About**

Blossom's mind was still reeling when the door opened again. She tried to compose herself before stepping away from the wall. She quickly leaned against it again, though, albeit by her shoulder. It helped steady her in more ways than one.

Mike coughed and turned around, shuffling down the stairs. Bubbles and Buttercup stood in the hallway, facing her. Fully dressed now, although Bubbles hadn't redone her pigtails. No one seemed able to look anyone in the eye.

Bubbles, who hadn't come home last night, was wearing the same blue summer dress she had the yesterday. She was blushing hard and generally looking bashful. Several times she brushed her hair behind her ears, even after it was settled in place. Embarrassed, maybe, but that was it.

Buttercup, in worn blue jeans and a plain green t-shirt, was more white in the face than red. Aside from her ashen face she was breathing irregularly and seemed dry-mouthed, apparently having trouble swallowing.

"Your, uh, shirt's on backwards," Blossom told Buttercup.

Now Buttercup did blush.

Bubbles actually giggled and faced the wall, possibly worried she'd lose control at this point if she looked at either of her sisters. Buttercup pulled in her arms and twisted she shirt before sticking them through the sleeves again.

"I... I don't know what to say," Blossom said weakly. "How... How long..." Blossom couldn't finish the question. It was just too unreal.

Bubbles finally looked at her, biting her lip briefly before replying, "This was our...first time."

Blossom tilted her head and opened her mouth as she struggled for words. Her face showed a mixture of confusion, bewilderment, and, to some small degree, revealed a feeling of something like betrayal. "But--the picture?" she eventually asked.

"Yesterday was...kind of a first, too," Buttercup replied very softly, still not able to face Blossom. That morning Princess Morbucks had spread around the school a photograph of Buttercup kissing a very startled-looking Bubbles.

Blossom finally stared at Bubbles with a look bordering on disgust, her scrunched eyebrows showing a hint of something akin to anger or disappointment. "So you have your first kiss yesterday and crawl in bed with each other the next?" At last latching onto something solid and familiar, Blossom launched into her tirade with a desperate fervor. "What were you thinking? It's all over the school, all over the news--do you know how many phone calls we've had at home today? What about all the people that we set an example for? Good God! Can you imagine what everyone's going to think about this?"

"But what do _you_ think, Blossom?" Bubbles asked. She didn't seem bothered by Blossom's reaction. If anything, now that they were talking, she seemed to be firm on her feet, too. Blossom wasn't that surprised, honestly. Blossom herself was the voice of logic, intelligence, and forethought. Buttercup certainly had the most energy, tenacity, and physical prowess of the three. However, these years Bubbles was the most emotionally sound and strong willed. Bubbles's sisters were generally both better off in a fight, but Bubbles was built to handle situations like this. She was the voice of wisdom, and like any kind of wisdom worth having it had taken years of experience to arrive at. Still...

"What do you mean 'what do I think?' You shouldn't even have to ask!" Blossom countered. "I mean, lesbian is one thing, but this... This is incest!" Even Blossom winced when she said the word.

Buttercup finally spoke. "Actually, I don't think it technically is." Her confidence withered under Blossom's glare. "I mean... Legally... You know."

When she'd spoken with their father, Professor Utonium, about the situation this morning, Blossom had found out he'd noticed some interesting Internet searches this summer. Seeing Princess's picture led them to suspect Buttercup had made them, but now Blossom was almost certain Buttercup was indeed the one looking into marriage laws and what it might mean to be someone's "sibling" when you had no common parents--or any parents at all.

"Oh, so is that all it takes?" She looked at Bubbles, now. "Buttercup shares a few legal technicalities and anything's fair game?"

Bubbles shook her head slightly, actually smiling at this point. "It's not like that at all."

Blossom didn't give her time to build up from that. "Well then what the hell is it like? By all means, enlighten me!"

Bubbles gently took hold of Blossom's upper arm, "Yes, let's sit down and talk about it."

Blossom was resistant to the idea. Mike was downstairs and she hardly wanted to discuss this in his presence. Then came to mind the thought of sitting on the bed where her sisters...

"No. I'll stand."

Bubbles let go, giving her sister a little space. "Until yesterday, I hadn't thought of Buttercup as anything more than my sister. A very dear, precious sister, but still just a sister. When she kissed me... I just didn't know what to think. So I stayed at Mike's house to settle down and think it over."

"Well, you sure did a fine job of _that_," Blossom interjected.

Unphased, Bubbles continued. "I think I did. I realized Buttercup must have had feelings for me for months, now. And I don't think she wanted it. Or expected it. In fact, I was pretty sure she'd resisted the idea. And she's admitted to all of those things. But fact was, she still loved me as more than her sister. So I figured I had to stop and ask myself if I was capable of that, and if I really, honestly loved her like that."

Bubbles paused to take Buttercup's hand in hers. They smiled at each other. For the moment, even Buttercup seemed at ease. Bubbles turned her attention back to Blossom. "I decided that I did. I really do."

"You decided in less than a day? Doesn't that seem just a little hasty to you?"

"But this didn't happen in a day," Bubbles countered. "We've been getting closer all summer. When I looked at those times from a different perspective..." Bubbles paused, slowly taking in and letting out a deep breath. "When I let myself look at things differently, I realized that I've been happier with Buttercup than with anyone else."

Ever more exasperated, Blossom asked, "Didn't you stop to think that maybe that's because she's your freaking sister? Lots of siblings get along great!"

"But I still made the choice I made," Bubbles proclaimed, starting to cry. "I love Buttercup. With all my heart I love her. I could see myself spending the rest of my life with her. And only her. I admit, it's a little strange and more than a little weird, but that's how it is. You know we've never exactly been normal."

"Yeah, but..." Blossom started, her irritation vanishing in the face of Bubbles's tears. She saw Buttercup give their sister's hand a squeeze. "You can't really believe this is the best thing to do, can you?"

Buttercup shook her head and replied instead. "Like Bubbles said, I fought this every step of the way. I told myself it would go away. Then I tried to make it go away. I've held back all this time, but in the end I just couldn't anymore."

"If you really were trying to fight it then why didn't you come to me or dad? Maybe if you'd let us talk some sense into you this wouldn't have happened."

"But that isn't how it happened," Bubbles said. "And I wouldn't want to take any of it back."

Blossom slumped back against the wall again. Somewhere along the way she'd left it without noticing, but now she felt weak again. "Are you ready to come home at least?"

Her sisters nodded.

Blossom shook her head. "I don't know how we'll be able to trust you two. Living under the same roof night after night."

Buttercup smiled, though it wavered a little. "Well, I managed this good for this long."

"'This well,'" Blossom corrected offhandedly, too exhausted to check herself.

Bubbles left her sister's side to peel Blossom from the wall and hug her. "Don't worry, Blossom. That's not what our relationship is built on. We wouldn't do that to you and dad, anyway." Bubbles pulled back a little. Blossom's eyes were just beginning to tear up. Bubbles kissed her on the forehead. "Everything's going to be fine. I promise." Bubbles went back to Buttercup's side, where they clasped hands again. "Now let's go talk to dad."


	3. The Talk

**The Talk**

"I see," Professor Utonium said at length. Hands clasped, supporting his chin. He remained mostly silent throughout. They sat at the kitchen table, where Professor had spent most of his day so far. As when they ate together, Blossom sat to his left, Bubbles across from him, and Buttercup beside Bubbles.

Buttercup had explained as best she could the development of her feelings and struggles with them. Yesterday she'd decided to push beyond her fears and tell Bubbles how she felt. She'd been certain of rejection, so she simply wanted to get it out and tell Bubbles that while she couldn't change the way she felt she had it under control and Bubbles didn't need to worry about her.

Instead, as the girls grew later and later for class, when Buttercup was unable to spit it out she became desperate and kissed her sister instead. Buttercup was pretty embarrassed by that. She admitted it pretty much invalidated her claim that Bubbles had nothing to worry about before she even made it.

At that point Bubbles explained that she was pretty shocked by what had happened and left without responding to any of it. Even by the end of the school day she hadn't been able to think clearly, so instead of going home or seeing Buttercup again she crashed at Mike's house.

Everyone already knew about the morning's fiasco. Princess had somehow acquired a picture of yesterday's kiss and kindly dropped reams of it on the school via helicopter. Buttercup fled in the ensuing mess. Shortly after that Blossom had found Bubbles riding to school with Mike.

Buttercup said she'd felt awful about it all when she flew off. Sure, she felt bad about the unwanted publicity, but from Bubbles's reactions before that point she assumed the worst and felt like she had really hurt her sister.

Bubbles had waited at Mike's house for Buttercup to return. She also convinced Blossom to let her be the first one to talk to their sister. At the time she agreed to that Blossom wouldn't have imagined that what would happen was even a possibility.

"So Buttercup and I had a little talk," Bubbles continued. "I made sure of how she felt." Bubbles started blushing at this point. "And since Buttercup had been kind enough to...show me how she felt, I kind of...returned the favor." Her face was almost painfully red.

"I found them in bed together," Blossom clarified, speaking her first words since she'd walked in the door with her sisters in tow.

Buttercup spoke up. "At least we weren't doing anything when you showed up."

"So, Blossom," Professor asked, turning to her and cutting off the impending shouting match, "how do you feel about this?"

Startled by the question, she asked, "Me?" She didn't dismiss the question, though. Not like when Bubbles asked. She had a lot of respect for authority in general and her father in particular. "Well, I think it's wrong. Like I told them, I could probably get over a homosexual relationship, but this is incest. This goes against the values of our society and the world. I mean, whatever technicalities of our parentage, you can tell by looking at us we're related, and in any case we grew up and live together as sisters."

"I see," he said again.

For an uncomfortable period no one spoke. Professor stared towards the wall at nothing in particular. Buttercup was the first to speak, though she did so with uncertainty and caution.

"Dad, are you upset with us?"

His smile put her at ease. "Buttercup..." He reached out and put his large, age-worn hand over hers. "All of you are and will always be the most precious, wonderful people in my life."

"But what happens now?" Bubbles asked. "Do you try and change our minds? Split us up? Send us to therapy?"

Professor shook his head before she even finished. He took a deep breath and sighed before he finally spoke. "There's no sense in sugar-coating this. You girls are celebrities. World wide, yes, but especially here in Townsville. The pictures, posters--Bubbles, your silhouette is still on post cards and brochures."

Professor was referring to one photographer's shot of a lifetime. Two years ago, while living in a high rise apartment, he'd snapped some photos from behind of Bubbles in a bathrobe standing on one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city. Those simple shadows against the sunrise managed to say a lot with so little.

He paused again. When he spoke, he chose his words carefully. "If we're not careful about this... You might not ever live this down."

"What do you mean by 'careful?'" Bubbles asked with suspicion.

"The picture is what it is. We might accuse Princess of fabricating it, but it was real, and at best would become a game of 'he said she said.' But all it shows is a kiss, and the only face visible is clearly surprised. We should at least consider--"

"What? Lying?" Bubbles interrupted.

Blossom cut in. "Would you rather--"

"Not hide the truth?" Bubbles interrupted again.

Professor slowly raised and lowered his hand, as if pushing down the volume in the room. "Bubbles, Buttercup admitted this has been on her mind for a while. But do you--"

"Dad, you know me," Bubbles interjected.

"Yeah, we know you all right," Blossom spat. "Little miss rebellious streak."

"What?" Bubbles asked, shocked. "You think that's what this is?"

"Well, there's Mike--nice image that makes. And what about that damned brochure picture? Flying out in public in your damned bathrobe whenever the fancy strikes you? Flinging food and playing the false translator shtick at a groundbreaking international diplomatic function? Barely any respect for authority, always fighting the 'sweet, harmless blonde' image--"

"Sorry if I'm not 'Little Miss Conformity International!' It seems that spot's taken! And if you think I'm just being rebellious you really have lost touch with me, haven't you?"

"Well, if getting back 'in touch' leads to _that_, I think I can live with it!"

"Right. Like you even have the courage to think about it! Is it really so different? Tell me one difference between a good family relationship and a good romantic one?"

"Sex?" Blossom asked sardonically.

"Apparently not anymore," Bubbles countered. "Really, if 'it just is' isn't an answer, then what makes this so wrong?"

"Bubbles--what the hell? What about genetics? Maybe you're not having kids, but does that make it right?"

"Girls, that's enough," Professor said calmly. He knew this spat was inevitable, but he decided it had gone on long enough for now. The girls had a lot of arguments when their teenage years hit. It probably contributed in some way to their drifting apart, though things had calmed down after that. He didn't doubt that they still loved each other, but sometimes it was tough love.

"Buttercup, you've studied the subject a little, if I'm not mistaken. What does the law say?"

"Well, if we're not sisters--"

"Assume the worst honey. Everyone else will. Please, trust me, I want to support you girls. So very badly, I do. I expect this is going to be hard, and if I could... Well, I will say there have been more than a few surprising developments with you girls. I'm prepared to think differently, and willing to accept ways in which you're different from the rest of the world. If I could, I would support you in every way possible, whether by standing at your side or by helping you past this before you hurt each other. But we all learned a long time ago that coddling you girls under this roof doesn't do you any good in the outside world."

Bubbles asked, "Why do you think we would hurt each other?"

Professor raised his hand to silence her, looking at Buttercup. Eventually, she answered, "It's against the law. Sisters can't have sex. Not even consensually."

"And what have you girls chosen to do with your lives?"

"I know, I know... We keep the law. Not break it." She looked up. "But this wasn't about sex!"

"And it doesn't have to be," Bubbles said. "Not anymore."

"Oh, and so today's little adventure was--"

"I'd love to tell you but I'm sure you're not interested," Bubbles snapped. She quickly calmed and continued. "Look, I know there's all kinds of love in this world. There's even all kinds of romantic love. And maybe you think life can be figured out by example and examination, but people aren't that simple. Love isn't that simple. It's all about what you feel, what you can feel, and what you choose."

Bubbles reached for Blossom's hand. She snatched it away. Bubbles bowed her head and sighed. She stood and stepped over to Blossom, dropping to one knee. She put one hand on her sister's shoulder, the other on the hands clasped in her lap. "Call me stupid for playing with fire if you want. I probably deserve it. But when that fire burns you sometimes and makes you whole other times, the only way to figure it out is to try."

Blossom jumped out of her chair and whipped some tears from her eye as she stomped to her first floor bedroom. She slammed the door.

Several moments of uncomfortable silence later, Professor spoke up. "Let it be for now, girls." He stood up, supporting himself on the table. "After everything else we've been through, don't believe for a minute that this will bring this family down. But promise me you won't go anywhere tonight. And check in with me before school tomorrow, all right?"

Bubbles and Buttercup nodded.

"I'll be downstairs if anyone needs me. Remember, girls, I love you all. I always will."


	4. Plotting

**Plotting**

That day, people across Townsville were thinking and talking about the news. National news networks had so far given it little more than a passing reference, but even local ones didn't dwell on it for very long. In truth, most people didn't think it possible that this was anything serious. Princess was a known antagonist of the girls. Few would deny she was capable of staging something like this.

Still, interest from the media was building. They wanted answers and many of them went straight to the Utoniums to find them, simply calling their residence. They all received responses but not necessarily answers.

Efforts to find the source of the picture turned up dead ends. The most anyone managed was to trace it to Princess herself.

The circus hadn't erupted yet, but it was only a matter of time before they grew tired of waiting for answers. The lack of definite response from Professor Utonium, rumors that Bubbles had been missing yesterday evening, and the fact that not one of the girls attended school that day fueled suspicions that there was something interesting going on.

For Princess, it wasn't enough. She'd paid a private investigator millions to find something, anything she could use to tarnish the public image of the Powerpuff Girls. To her surprise, the man hadn't even needed to fabricate anything. He'd captured a rather tender, awkward moment between Bubbles and Buttercup outside the school.

Everyone knew about the picture. Only Princess, the detective, and a single technician were aware of the existence of the video from which that still had been extracted. From that, it was impossible to deny Buttercup's motivation, and the sight of shock and confusion on Bubbles's face was golden.

That evening, Princess watched the news with the hope of scandal. Instead she found speculation. Worse, there seemed as much concern over her involvement than possible incestuous implications.

Princess threw the remote at the flat screen television that covered most of the wall, cracking it and breaking the remote open. The pulled a cell phone from her pocket and made a call to one of her contacts in the local media. At this point in her life, she had at least one or two people under her thumb in almost any industry.

She reminded herself she needed to find another private investigator. After sending her the video, Danny Rye had left town in a hurry. She'd leave him to it, though. After all, if he really did develop a conscience next would be a backbone.

"Jerry, it's Morbucks. You want more on the Powerpuff story? I've got something that will erase anyone's doubts."

The voice that replied was definitely not Jerry's. In fact, it had an otherworldly, feminine quality. "I'm sorry, but there's nobody here by that name, little girl."

"Little... What!? Do you know who you're talking to!"

When the speaker replied again. Princess gradually recognized the voice's owner. "Oh, I know very well. Do you know with whom you are speaking?"

"Him," Princess answered, scowling so hard one could imagine it carried over the phone. "Whatever you're up to, I've got better things to do."

"Oh, I doubt that." When Him spoke again, the voice came from behind Princess instead of from her cell. She didn't turn around, but she closed her phone as he continued speaking. "Let me guess," he said as he sauntered around the chair to stand between Princess and the cracked television. "You wanted to share that little video, didn't you?"

"What do you care?"

"Why, I care so very much. You understand I've had a...vested interest in the girls for some time now." His voice briefly deepened with "vested interest."

Princess narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying you had something to do with this?"

Him waved the idea away with a flick of his pincer and a dignified "Hmph!"

"Then tell me why you're bothering me."

"Oh, I'm not bothering you," Him replied sweetly before switching to his deeper, menacing voice. "I'm helping you, you pathetic fool!"

Princess stood up, looking ready to throw a tantrum. She held her tongue, though. What threats or insults could anyone level at Him, after all?

"You're being far too impatient, child," Him continued, voice again sweet and effeminate. "Let them deal with it. They have to answer to the torch-bearing mob sooner or later. Do you expect they'll tell the truth?"

Princess remained silent.

Him bellowed deeply, "Of course not!" Sweetly, he continued, "There is, perhaps, a small chance they will spew out some drivel near enough to the truth without damning them outright. But that is irrelevant to our concerns. As I said, they cannot remain forever silent. When they come forward with whatever lie they choose, then, child, and only then should you share that little piece of truth."

Princess saw where he was heading, but however much she liked the approach she didn't show it in her expression. "So you mean catch them in a lie on top of everything?"

Him replied with a deep voice and malicious, toothy grin, closing one pincer with a sharp clack. "Precisely!"

Princess attempted to put on a modicum of obeisance. "So, knowing who you are and what you can do, is there anything else you can tell me about this dysfunctional little family?"

Him's grin grew to unnatural proportions and the room grew darker. His eyes glowed red and a low growl emanated from his throat. The images and sounds from the damaged television were replaced by an inferno of fire. "Keep watching."

Princess blinked and Him was gone, everything in the room restored to normality, save for the damage she'd caused when she threw the remote.

She looked at the phone, still in hand. She flipped it open, preparing to make some different phone calls.

She'd make sure they were reputable. As reputable as any who would illegally spy on someone. Princess was still miffed about being accused of faking the photo. She didn't want anyone denying the authenticity of this.


	5. In the Bedroom

**In the Bedroom**

"Blossom?"

Blossom started when she heard her name. She'd been asleep when the small, soft voice called out.

"Blossom? Are you awake?"

Blossom peered through squinted eyes. Even though her bedroom was still dark, especially with the blinds drawn, her eyes felt painfully dry. "Now I am." In the faint light shed by her alarm clock on her nightstand she saw Bubbles. Blossom's twin bed and book-laden headboard was tucked into one corner of her room, the foot facing the door.

"I'm sorry," Bubbles said. She was slightly hunched over, playing with the hem of her nightgown. "After this afternoon, I had trouble sleeping." Still not looking her sister in the face, she dropped to her knees at her bedside. "Sleeping most of the afternoon before I came home didn't help, either, but I really have a hard time thinking of you being upset with me."

Blossom loosed a combined sigh and groan. "Bubbles, I love you and all, but waking me up at," she reached for her clock, "two in the morning isn't going to make me any less upset with you."

"I know, but I can't bear sitting on this overnight and through school tomorrow. And who knows if we'll even have a chance to talk after school anyway?"

"Happy as it would make me, I guess you're not here to apologize and admit you're wrong, so just say what you want to say and go to bed."

Bubbles shook her head. "Scooch over."

"What?" Blossom asked, laughing giddily. "Are you crazy? After today you think I'm letting _you_ into _my_ bed?"

"Oh, don't be silly. Now move."

"No," Blossom half-said, half-giggled. But as Bubbles lifted the covers and started coming in anyway, Blossom slid back against her wall as far as she could. Twin-sized beds, despite the name, are not intended to be shared by siblings.

Bubbles shivered, seeming to notice the cold she'd just left only when embraced by the warmth of the bed covers.

"All right," Blossom started to say, "any other day this would be uncomfortable, but _now_... What's this supposed to prove, anyway?"

"Nothing. Remember I used to come to you like this sometimes? You'd wrap your arms around me, tell me why everything was going to be all right, and somehow always make me feel better?"

"Yeah, years ago. Then all of a sudden you started acting like you understood everything. And you obviously don't want to hear what I have to say about this."

"Because if all you want to say is what you were trying to say this earlier, I already do understand those things. I can guess what you think. You can guess how I feel. What I want is to hear what you feel and tell you what I think."

Blossom yawned hard, causing her to tear up. Although Bubbles's words hadn't quite stuck, she replied anyway, "All right, maybe I've calmed down a little, but still..."

"Please, Bloss... At least tell me how you feel about us. About this. You still love us, right?"

"Bubbles, really... After doing something so reckless, stupid, and wrong, would we be talking right now if I didn't still love you? I just wish that for once you'd listen to reason instead of _intuition_." Blossom started to cry. She continued despite the painful tighness in her throat. "I mean, do you ever think about how many relationships _fail_? Or that the person you're going to be five years from now may be very different than you are today? I mean, everything else aside, even if this was just between the family..."

Blossom laughed, then sniffled. "No pun intended. But most of the time, when a relationship goes bad you have the luxury of walking way. No matter what happens, you can't ever take this back."

Bubbles's eyes were watery, too, but she was still smiling. "I know, Blossom." She hesitated, then reached out to wipe away one of her sister's stray tears. "I did think about that. I'm still scared about a lot of things. But I'm a lot less worried about Buttercup and I getting along, even if we don't stay together. I'm completely clueless about how we're going to deal with Princess, but even that doesn't worry me so much. I'm not sure what I've gained with Buttercup is worth losing you and daddy, though."

"Oh, Bubbles," Blossom cooed. "Don't even think that." She started to reach out but pulled back. "You sure you're not...you know..."

Bubbles shook her head and smirked. "Naw. You're not my type, I think."

Blossom smiled and put her hand gently on the back of Bubbles's head. She pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. "Now don't worry about dad and I. I admit, the only reason I'm not tearing into you right now is I'm too tired to think straight and you're so pathetically adorable when you get like this. But you have to admit you're pushing things a little far. We wouldn't be doing our jobs if we just patted you two on the back and said 'good for you,' right?"

"Good point... See? You always make things seem better somehow."

There were two quick taps on the bedroom door. The door swung before anyone acknowledged them. Buttercup was standing there, head down and arms at her sides. She clenched her fists and spoke, looking up as she did. "I'm sorry. I--"

Buttercup stopped short when she saw her sisters squeezed into the little bed. Blossom's hand was still around Bubbles's neck.

Blossom rolled her eyes on seeing Buttercup's wide-eyed shock. "Oh, don't even _think_ about that!" She gently pushed Bubbles away, and she slid out of bed without a fight. "Some people in this household still understand the boundaries of sisterhood."

Buttercup shook her head to regain her focus, easily dismissing the interruption. "Yeah. Sure. Um... I just wanted to say 'I'm sorry.' I deserve the blame for all of this." Buttercup's gaze returned to the carpet. "I was stupid every step of the way, and I don't just mean yesterday--the day before--whatever. Both. The whole time before that."

"Buttercup..." Bubbles started. Buttercup didn't look up.

"I'm sorry Bubbles. I had plenty of time, but it all came so fast for you."

"No, it didn't! It just took me this long to realize--"

"No, you're wrong. Would you have ever... Would you..." Buttercup paused to regain composure. She still didn't dare look. She knew she couldn't hold out against those eyes. "C'mon, Bubbles, like any amount of time would have made you 'realize' anything. This is all my damned fault. I've been thinking... This is just like with Mike, isn't it?"

"Buttercup...what about Mike? What do you mean? Please, look at me! Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me! If you can."

Buttercup did her best to ignore her sister. "I remember you told me Mike is the one who confessed his feelings to you. And you also said that you hadn't given it much thought before he said anything."

Buttercup finally looked up. Her anger, though directed inward, was projected clearly on her face. "And you know what else? You told me you thought that took a lot of guts, and that because of that you couldn't just say 'no.'"

She had to turn away again, though. The desperate longing in Bubbles's eyes... Brought on by sheer love; not from romance, but from selfless affection. "I'm sorry, Bubbles, but today shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have let it. You have so much love to give, and I don't deserve an ounce of it. Don't feel like you owe me anything. I'm...sorry."

Bubbles ran to her sister, though there were mere feet between them. Buttercup braced herself but still threw up her arms stumbled back a few steps when her sister collided. Bubbles wrapped Buttercup in an embrace that would have sheared a car in half.

"Don't say that! Don't say that!" Bubbles pleaded, her voice muffled, her face buried in her sister's shoulder. "Don't you dare try to tell me how _I_ feel about _you_!"

"Wha--but... But that's not what--"

"Buttercup, I loved Mike. I thought he loved me. Maybe he does, but he loved me like some piece of art. Like something too good to... To touch. To hold. Too good to spoil."

Blossom, essentially forgotten at this point, watched now from her doorway as Bubbles lifted her head and looked at Buttercup almost nose-to-nose.

"I was Mike's perfect woman. Not because I was perfect for him, but because I was perfect _to_ him. No one knows better than we do how wrong that is. How real...how _human_ we are." Bubbles hugged her sister tight again, this time resting her chin on her shoulder instead of burying her face in it.

"We weren't even grown in lab. 'Boom!' We came out of an explosion in a lab. But dad's looked at our DNA. We're one hundred percent human. We can have kids, if we wanted. Well, not with each other, but you know what I mean. We age. We bleed. We'll grow old and, someday, we'll die. Just like everyone else. Sure, we were good kids. We were too naive to be too dangerous.

"But we grew up. Just like everyone else, we grew up in a world full of greedy, selfish, spiteful, hateful bastards, and just because we help them anyway they think we're better than them. Or at least they think _we_ think we're better.

"Maybe I could have more friends, but I don't, and I don't want to. I don't keep other people away because I think I have enough. I sure don't do it because I think I'm better than they are. I do it because I can't freaking stand them, sometimes! Damn it, Buttercup, I hate some of those people as much as you do!

"You keep them away by being pissy. I smile and joke and laugh and most of the time I mean it but sometimes I just want to give them what they want so they shut the hell up and leave me alone."

Bubbles stopped briefly to kiss Buttercup's lips. "But I didn't give you what you wanted to get rid of you. Or even to keep you around. I gave you what you wanted because it's what _I_ want, too."

Listening unnoticed from the hall upstairs, a thoughtful Professor Utonium decided not to intrude. As he returned to his bedroom, the last thing he heard from downstairs was Bubbles saying, "And don't you _dare_ say different ever again, all right?"


	6. In High Places

**In High Places**

It was now, officially, "the morning after" at the Utonium residence. After last night, the girls had spent a few moments in silence before bidding each other good night and returning to their rooms. This morning was equally quiet, and the weight of it was pressing.

Professor was actually up in time to join them for breakfast. This was no less unusual than Bubbles and Buttercup being awake early enough to do more than grab something to eat on the flight to school.

Though no one spoke as they force fed themselves cold cereal, the phone rang shortly before the girls were finished. Professor picked up. He'd taken it upon himself to act as a buffer between his girls and the inquisitive public and recent influx of prank calls.

"Utonium residence. Yes, they are. Really? This morning? Is everyone...? That's a relief. It's at Huntsville? No, no, I'm sure they won't mind. This sounds more serious than being late for school. Oh, really? Several _hours_? Well, all the same, I'm sure they'll be happy to help. Yes, they'll be there as soon as possible. No, thank _you_, Mr. Rose. Goodbye."

Professor hung up the phone and turned to his girls. By this point he had their full attention. "A tank on the space station ruptured earlier this morning. Everyone on board is safe, but the main module is more-or-less crippled. They're prepared to launch some supplies and equipment to make the necessary repairs, but if they were to push forward with that the delays would disrupt some very delicate, expensive research. I didn't think you girls would mind pitching in and getting it repaired today."

"I think we can swing it," Blossom agreed. "Personally, I'm not ashamed to admit I'd rather stay away from school today anyway."

"Well, the suits should be ready, along with fresh recyclers. When you're ready, just head to the Marshall Center and see what they need you to do."

The girls nodded as one and rose from the table likewise.

The suits were, in all truth, optional. The rigors of space, of the heat, cold, and radiation, were minor concerns. They could hold their breath several times longer than any normal human. They'd never felt curious enough to test that limit, though, so the suits with their air recyclers were welcome.

"Oh, and girls," Professor began, "remember, those radio channels are pretty heavily encrypted. And shortwave should be plenty of range for what you're doing. I'm not saying you have to, but if you feel the need to talk to each other about the last few days, now would be the ideal chance."

* * *

In a limo at the school parking lot, Princess listened to the live feed from her laptop. She fumed. First, the remote microphones and videos had taken almost all night to get set up, then all they'd heard was crunching cereal, and now this. She'd have to see if she could get anyone to track the transmissions in space. First bell rang, and she shut off the feed. From this point on she'd let her people keep her informed as to anything of interest that might be said. Best to keep as few direct links between the surveillance and herself.

Princess struggled to remain patient. Not that she had any idea what she'd do if he did, but she hoped Him wasn't about to let her down. "Surveillance squads," as they were called, were a recent addition to the world society, and an expensive one. Like licensed private investigators, but, most felt, far dirtier.

* * *

Professor waved at the three streaks of light speeding from the house. He was glad to give them this opportunity. He didn't dare tell them that he'd made a rather long distance phone call an hour before the girls were out of bed. Kevin Bead was a classmate from his college days, but now was one of the astronauts working the space station. Professor would never be able to tell the girls he'd asked a man to risk his career and maybe even innocent lives to create an opportunity for them to lay low and have another day of privacy.

Kevin had faith, though. The rumor mill erected yesterday probably hadn't reached there yet, but Professor Utonium no more than said, "I need an excuse for my girls to keep busy for a few hours," and Kevin had agreed.

Professor knew well that there were people out there, like smoldering embers, just waiting for some kindling to erupt into a bonfire. Whenever the opportunity arose, those people became quite vocal about their ill feelings towards his daughters. But there were other people, like Kevin, who would gladly pay his girls back for their years of service.

He just hoped that calling in those favors like this was the right thing to do.

* * *

"Ready," Blossom chirped over the radio. While she held the plate in place her sisters did some spot welding with their heat vision. The face shields of the helmets were up to the task.

"Bubbles," Buttercup radioed. "About last night--"

"It's all right, Buttercup. I know you were just trying to protect me. I'll let it slide this time."

"Um, yeah, about that..." Buttercup paused and floated to the next section. Blossom, though she heard the conversation, decided to stay out of it.

When she had the second plate over the breach, she again signaled, "Ready."

"Last night, part of the reason I said those things is because if any of us takes the fall for this, it should be me."

"Buttercup--" Bubbles started.

"No, just listen for a minute. Maybe we are in this together, now, but even if we are it doesn't make sense for us both to take a fall."

Blossom did step in, now. "We don't know if it's going to come to that, yet." Whatever her feelings on their dilemma, she understood that she had to root for them. Who else would? Even their staunchest supporters would be hesitant to stand up for them if the full truth came out.

"Yeah, but what are we going to do? Lie? Look at it this way, if all we talk about is my...are my feelings, then no one can argue that. If Bubbles doesn't tell anyone she feels the same way, they'll have no trouble believing it. I mean, if we just get this over with now--"

"Ready," Blossom interrupted.

Buttercup continued. "If we just let me take the fall now, maybe that would be for the best. They have their scapegoat--hell, maybe they'd support the rest of you in taking care of your poor, deluded sister. It's only fair that if I started this mess that I should be the only one to suffer for it."

The girls left one last large hole through which they could bring in the remaining parts and equipment. Technicians would be guiding them through the more complicated work, then they'd leave them to finish the job and get things running smoothly again.

Blossom spoke her mind first. "Buttercup, that's very noble of you, and it may make a lot of sense as far as minimizing our losses, but I still think it's premature."

"But it's not--" Bubbles began.

"And don't tell me it's not fair, Bubbles," Blossom interrupted. "If we want to talk about what's fair and what's right, then you'd both be awaiting trial. Maybe instead of waiting for Princess to make the next move, we should just pay her a visit. Feel this out. We don't even know where the picture came from. For that matter, maybe we're still being watched. I hate to be paranoid, but I don't see any other choice."

Not long after, the girls had to switch their radios over as one of the space station staff joined them in a full space suit. He looked about as old as their father.

Over the radio he called, "Hello, girls! Haven't needed your help up here for a while. I'm Kevin Bead, and this is pretty much my area here. We're all lucky I spotted the warping before the rupture, but that's behind us, now. If one of you will grab that module over there, we can get started."


	7. Rock Bottom

**Rock Bottom**

Danny Rye knew how to lay low. He knew how to cover his tracks. He knew how to disappear. Spend enough years successfully tracking people down and anyone will pick up a few tricks along the way. Danny Rye, Private I. was set to disappear. Rather, Daniel Jay Smith as his driver's license said, though that was shredded and left at the bottom of a public trash can somewhere in Townsville.

Princess said he could retire if he did his job right, but she hadn't said when. Danny knew he was better off getting out while he could. All he had to do was screw up once, disappoint that dangerous little rich brat once, and he'd be history. In his line of work, he'd banked on the one damning mistake of others plenty of times. It hadn't failed yet.

Unfortunately, the kind of money she'd given him was easily traceable. He'd withdrawn about two hundred thousand and left the rest to rot. It was enough to get by on for a few years. Enough to lead him to another job, another life, in another place.

Yes sir, Danny knew just what to do. He knew just about all the ways he could get himself caught.

This was one of them.

Danny Rye was a forty-one-year-old, divorced chain smoking alcoholic. He didn't jump through windows. He didn't get the girl. Hell, he never got the chance to shoot anyone. Or the urge, for that matter. Danny dealt in information, not action.

That's right. Danny Rye, P.I. never brought back the missing kid, never stuffed the deadbeat into his trunk to deliver to his client, and in general never went further than figuring out what he needed to know and passing it along to the people who actually could do something about it. He'd been good enough at it to attract the attention of Princess Morbucks. He was the glue, the grease, the catalyst--he had no experience with being a mover-and-shaker himself.

Which made his current course even more foolish.

His expert hunches had led him right to what Princess wanted: dirt. He'd captured a rather tender, yet awkward, and wholly disturbing moment on video.

So why just the one picture? No one doubted Princess had the resources to fabricate a still image of her choosing and have it strand up to scrutiny. She'd told Danny she didn't want "evening news." No, Princess wanted nothing less than "Puffgate," and yet the media was scrutinizing her at least as closely as the girls. So why not the video?

Danny was familiar with other tricks of his trade as well, including "the setup." And the girls were clearly being baited.

His last case... No, assignment was the better term. Princess had kept him on retainer for years. When she finally called him out to do more than make a few phone calls and dig up information Princess herself could have obtained if she'd cared to, he'd been told that creating dirt would be as good as finding it.

None of his last assignment sat well with him. Maybe it was Princess's fault for keeping him on too tight a leash for too long, but he'd felt wasted. He resented her for that. And working against the girls, he admitted, bothered him as much as working for Princess.

He'd been twenty-eight when the girls were created. He'd worked in Townsville for years by then. Moved there, in fact, when he realized the endless source of work for someone like him in a cesspool like that.

Danny had seen that city transform under the protection of those girls. In fact, seeing things that often managed to stay out of the local newspapers, he knew better than most just how much the city had cleaned up.

On the one hand, he'd been grateful to speed away from it. On the other hand...

He drove an old, beat up station wagon he'd bought from some guy who'd put up an ad in the paper. Private transaction, cash only on a small price tag--it was the sensible approach for someone in the position he was in.

He parked and took a good look a the phone booth. This wasn't Townsville. In his stay there, he doubted there was a public phone that had survived the last decade. The high mortality rate of public property left Townsville public phones rather spartan. This middle-of-nowhere gas station, however, didn't see so much action, and had an enclosed glass booth.

Danny left the pump running while he stepped inside and closed the doors behind him. He hesitated. It seemed so quiet. Like a bubble in the sea of reality. He looked around, but aside from the lone gas station attendant there was not even another car in sight.

He still felt paranoid. If Princess wasn't looking for him now, she was about to be, and whoever she sicced on him would start at this middle-of-nowhere phone booth.

The phone rang a few times. A man's voice answered. He sounded at least as old as Danny, and about as worn out.

"Hello?" Professor Utonium asked.

"Look, I've got something you need to know. This is very important." Danny had always thought that if there was something that absolutely had to be said, you should just say it before anyone had the chance to stop you. When the time had come, though, it just didn't feel right to blurt this one out without prefixing it with something.

"The picture? That's not all. It came from a video. I think Princess is baiting you. She wants you to lie and she's going to use the video to catch you in it." Danny paused. "Hello? Look, I'm sorry, but it's done. Just be careful, all right?"

On the other end, however, Professor had heard, "The picture? That's not all. It came from a video. Yeah, that's right, old man, I've been watching. And I'm going to put it up on the Web and charge people to look at it. I bet I'll make a fortune!" When this was followed by mocking laughter, Professor grunted and slammed the phone down.

A few hundred miles away, Danny was about to hang up the phone himself.

"Hello, Daniel." The voice on the receiver was not the same as the one that had answered the phone.

"Hello? Who is this?" Danny asked, looking around. The road was still barren.

"We're sorry, the number you're calling _from_ has been disconnected or is no longer in service." The caller's voice dropped in pitch and grew hoarse. "Or, at least, it will be." Just as quickly, it became eerily pleasant again. "We're sorry for the inconvenience."

"What? Who the hell is this?"

Unlike Princess and the girls, Danny had never had any direct contact with Him before.

"Why, Daniel, I must say I'm offended! You and I have been awfully close. At least, you've been close enough to plenty of my handiwork."

Danny immediately hung up the phone and tried to open the door. It didn't move. He tried again, harder and harder. The booth itself rocked slightly, but that was it. He banged on the glass and called out. The man in the gas station didn't seem to notice. He picked the phone back up and started banging on the glass with it. The receiver broke and he cursed, letting it hang limply.

The voice issued from the speaker dangling from the broken phone. "Now that's not a very nice thing to say, Daniel. You know what else I don't like to hear?" Him dropped his pitch for a moment to answer his own question. "The truth!"

Danny eyed the receiver suspiciously. "What's going on here?"

"Oh, I'd like to tell you, but I'd sooner spare you the truth. You see, Daniel, the truth hurts. How much, you wonder? Why, I suppose to get some idea you could, say, turn around?"

Danny did so. The road was not empty now. In the distance, but growing closer, was an eighteen wheeler.

"Some might say the truth hurts like a punch in the face. Or a ton of bricks. Or being hit by a bus." In his menacing voice again, he added. "You and I know better, don't we, Danny?"

Back to blissful ease, Him continued. "Well, I hate to be rude, but I have so much to attend to. We'll have loads of time to discuss these things down at my place." He dropped his voice again, "I'll warm up a spot for you."

Him started cackling. Danny resumed his pounding and shouting. He briefly saw a faint image of the grinning devil in the glass, like a reflection, but he was very much alone in that booth.

The truck loomed nearer. Him's damning laughter echoed throughout the tiny space. Danny's voice already grew hoarse. He called for somebody, anybody. Then he called for the Powerpuff Girls. When half the tires on the truck blew at once and it veered his way, he called for God.

The gas station attendant called for an ambulance. By the time they arrived, it would have done as much good to call for a hearse.


	8. Confrontation

**Confrontation**

It wasn't until two o'clock (Townsville time) that the girls were free to return home. Rather than catch the last bit of school, they agreed to report to their dad.

"We're thinking of paying Princess a visit personally," Blossom said. "We don't think this waiting game is getting us anywhere."

He sighed in weary relief. "I hope that pans out, though given our past experiences with Princess I doubt that. I've told the callers--the serious ones, that is--that when we _do_ make a statement no organization is going to hear it before another. Maybe that will get some of them to be patient, but they do expect we're going to say something. Granted, they always expected that. And you're right, Blossom, the longer we say nothing the worse this looks.

"Assuming Princess is still at school herself, why don't you girls rest up a bit for now. Have you already eaten lunch?"

* * *

The girls were careful about this approach. Princess hadn't broken the law this time, as far as they knew. They touched down at the front gate of the Morbucks mansion rather than the front door. They didn't want to risk getting pinned with entering private property with neither invitation nor just cause.

Whoever answered the door took ten minutes to give them the go-ahead to approach the front door. It was another five before that door was opened. They were escorted to a waiting room where Princess left them for half an hour before a servant came to lead them to her.

Princess was lounging in her "study," her back to the girls. Some show catering to stock market enthusiasts was on the gargantuan television, already replaced, though she seemed to ignore it, clacking away on the laptop on the desk before her.

The girls had endured meetings with Princess before and resisted the urge to begin the conversation. A few minutes later, the show reached a commercial. Princess muted the T.V., closed the laptop, and swiveled around.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," she said flatly, her face impassive. "We normal folk always have something to be doing. Whereas you," she turned her gaze to Buttercup, "seem to be running out of ways to, ah, 'pass the time.'"

"All right, Princess, you're clearly having fun with this. So tell us, what's up? What do you want?"

Princess sighed and responded in the tone of a weary parent answering yet another foolish question posed by their child. "Blossom, when I want something you'll know it. I'll have it."

"So, what? You're saying this is over?"

"Oh, Blossom, this is far from over. Everyone still has their questions, including me. We're all still waiting to hear what you have to say. Though I will admit you know how to build up anticipation."

Buttercup wanted to lash out. All this waiting was getting to her. Princess's jibes were getting to her. A day of doing nothing while everyone tried to figure out what happened next was getting to her. But she knew diplomacy wasn't her strong suit. That fell to Blossom or Bubbles. But this wasn't even diplomacy. This was Blossom's turf all the way, and Buttercup just had to trust her sister to come through somehow.

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Princess, but you expect me to believe that's the extent of your involvement?"

"My, ah, 'involvement,' as you say, isn't the issue at hand, though, is it? Now really, Blossom, is this so complicated? Just go out, tell everyone this is some petty little thing blown completely out of proportion and go on your way. I'll have 'had my fun,' as you put it, Buttercup will be vindicated, and we'll all be back to business as usual."

Princess clasped her hands and reclined. "Unless it's not that simple, of course."

"Nothing's simple when it comes to you, Princess. C'mon, girls, I think we're through here."

Princess spoke again after the girls turned around. "Now that can't be all you're here for, is it?"

"Goodbye, Princess," Blossom reiterated without bothering to look back.

"Well, they'll be talking now, won't they? Wondering what in this mansion could hold your attention for almost forty minutes."

Blossom paused but failed to think of anything worth saying. She started walking out and her sisters followed suit. Buttercup was the last one to reach the door, and stopped again when Princess called out.

"By the way, Buttercup, just so you know, I know a really good therapist. Perfect for this sort of thing. If there's _anything_ I can do, just let me know. Don't be a stranger!"

Buttercup slammed the door. Carefully.

She was near breaking and her sisters recognized this. They left the mansion quickly, without another word.

They took flight after stepping outside. Blossom took lead, but she didn't head home. Her sisters caught on and followed her. They touched down in the overgrown ruins of a mountaintop monetary in Asia. The thick growth obscured it from above, and did about as good a job on the ground.

The girls, able to walk up and down the planet almost as casually as they would a garden, had each found several places they could go to be alone. Some of these were closer to home, like Buttercup's seaside cliff a hundred miles or so out of town. Bubbles visited a farm they'd spent a few weeks of their childhood at. This spot of Blossom's was a bit farther out, to say the least.

Her sisters noted a bed of sand clear of growth, dotted with stones positioned in the style of a Japanese rock garden. It stood out in stark contrast to its untended surroundings.

"I use it to teach myself to let things go," Blossom said softly. Her sisters realized they'd been starting at it in silence for a while, now. "A lot of times I just watch and make myself let go of my time. To just do nothing. Sometimes I draw in it then wipe it away. I...have trouble letting things go, sometimes. I always try to take responsibility for so many things, and I take it personally when I can't make things right."

Blossom walked to a spot beside the sand bed and sat cross-legged. She stared at the garden as she spoke to her sisters. "I could probably stand to spend a little time here now. I'm sorry if you think I'm pushing too hard or asking too much. I think I've been doing pretty well... I'm trying to be there for you two, because I don't think anyone else will."

Blossom turned her full attention to her sisters, and her face expressed clearly her restored seriousness and focus. "As far as Princess goes, though, I don't like any of it. Maybe she's playing on our paranoia, but I think it's genuine. I don't know what we do from here. You girls didn't see anything when we were there either, did you?"

They shook their heads.

"Then I guess when we get home we'll try to talk to dad. I'm pretty sure one of his lab rooms is sound proof."

"Blossom," Bubbles said, "do you think we're being too cautious?"

Blossom looked at her garden again. "Who can say? When can we ever be sure there isn't somebody watching? Princess or otherwise. This kind of paranoia never ends so long as we have something to hide."

They all took in the garden for a time. All of their special places had two things in common. One was isolation. The other was just as deeply-rooted. From an old wheat field, to the sea endlessly pounding away, to the quiet stillness of this garden, the other clear connection was simplicity. Blossom's sisters could certainly empathize.


	9. It's Come to This

**It's Come to This**

"You _what_?" Blossom asked.

Her father confirmed his stance. "I agree. I would have never suggested it myself, but if Buttercup is willing to--"

"But what about--" Bubbles started. She stopped, wondering for a moment just how sound proof this lab room was. At a normal volume, she continued. "But what about me? I've got to be at least as guilty--"

"But do we want to tell the world two out of the three of us are like that?" Blossom asked.

Bubbles snapped back, "What, worried about your image? How do you know you aren't just as open to this? For all any of us know this _is_ perfectly normal for us!"

Buttercup actually spoke up. Now that it seemed she had a shot at taking some kind of action, she wanted to do her best to set everyone firmly on that course. "Bubbles, we convinced everyone years ago that we're human. We can't just turn around now and say 'except this' and 'except for that' whenever it suits us."

"I'm not saying we should tell them that, but we know there's other ways we're not normal."

Blossom stepped in again, "But if they're only going to worry about Buttercup, they'll feel better if they think you and I are going to set her straight. A lot of these people put their lives and their safety in our hands, and they _have_ to trust us. If we show them that most of us think and act in ways they aren't at all comfortable with..."

Buttercup's expression, in both face and voice, grew exceedingly sour before she added, "Besides, there's the whole Mitch thing. If we let them buy that, we've got warning signs and everything. I'll be an obsessive whore. If I'm totally broken, they can't take it too personally."

At the end of the girls Junior year, right before this previous summer in which Buttercup had grown close to and enamored with Bubbles, Mitch Mitchelson had asked Buttercup out. They'd been friends for years. That had been Buttercup's thinking, anyway. They hung out, cracked jokes at the expense of others, and, along with a few other people, generally had a good time now and then. Buttercup, despite her surprise, accepted Mitch's invitation.

When Mitch got fresh, Buttercup put an end to their date and went home. The next day, rumors were already flying around that she and Mitch had actually been involved for years, even while Mitch had pursued other girlfriends. Mitch also claimed that he had been the one to break off that relationship when Buttercup had wanted Mitch to herself.

The others in their circle had believed Mitch. Buttercup wasn't even about to try convincing them they were lies. It had become painfully clear that she didn't have any friends worth saving, which was just as well since she was ostracized at that point anyway.

Those events had, in fact, been part of what brought Bubbles and Buttercup together. Bubbles's concern for her sister had led her to push Buttercup towards opening up to her. The girls had drifted apart years ago. Drifted as far apart as those who shared a roof and worked as a team could go.

Bubbles and Buttercup had each enjoyed their renewed bonds and the comfort of mutual understanding. For Buttercup, things were a little more complicated, to say the least.

Bubbles was agape. She seemed offended, somehow. She spoke in a steady beat, as though the solidity of rhythm was essential to keeping her talking at all. "You mean you're going to tell everyone all of that bull crap was true?"

"If it'll help this family I will," Buttercup said, a sort of pride in her voice.

"But Mitch knows the truth!" Bubbles reminded her. "We'd be throwing even more lies into the mix."

"I agree," Professor said. "Lies do not become us. I do believe, however, that telling the whole truth may be a dangerous choice. It may be a better idea not to comment about Mitch at all. Most seemed willing enough to believe it was the truth. If we deny it, they'll raise a fuss, but if we acknowledge it as truth we could suffer for that.

"And, Bubbles, I'm sure you want to be there for your sister, but taking the fall with her isn't going to help anyone. I imagine the best course right now would be to make a public statement admitting Buttercup's deviant..." He paused, noticing and regretting his choice of words.

He'd been speaking like this were some lecture or professional conference, choosing the most fitting words without regard to their emotional sting. "I'm sorry, honey. What I want to say is that we should admit your feelings towards Bubbles publicly, and at the same time make a public promise of getting you into therapy."

Buttercup's eyes widened briefly. Only briefly. "Yeah," she agreed, downtrodden, "I guess that is what everyone would want."

Professor smiled. "Don't worry, honey. If this were court-ordered therapy, perhaps, they'd have to share their progress towards a goal with someone. As it stands, if we make this our choice, full client-patient confidentiality should be in effect, and we can do what we want with our time there.

"I doubt anyone would consider it suspicious if the rest of us showed up for the occasional session, together or separately. Assuming we can find someone understanding, and especially who is willing to accept that the four of us can manage this on our own, it might be a wonderful opportunity for us all to work through other issues we might be having."

While his other daughters mulled that over, Professor spoke to Buttercup, "Honey, I'm so sorry for what grief this might cause you. I wish there were some other way, but I can't protect you this time. I am, however, proud to see you taking responsibility and trying to protect your sisters. It hurts me very much that it's come to this, but it's not for ignorance on your part. On some level, you knew and accepted the risk, though I'm sure from your previous statements you were more concerned about your sister's response than anything else."

He breathed a sigh of weary relief. "All the same, what's done is done, and, I think, tomorrow will be when we make our statement. Given that, I think you three can get away with playing hooky for a third day. Normally I wouldn't condone such action, you know, but this has been a trying couple of days for us all. Besides that, Gregory may want some input from you girls as well."

Gregory was an eternally grateful lawyer the girls had helped some years ago. Since then, he had been their legal council and shield. His prior work in public relations for some large business or another had also come in handy.

Whenever Gregory's name came up, it was serious. Now there was no doubt: the game was on.


	10. Denied

**Denied**

Professor Utonium's voice projected through the television. It likely did so through quite a few, and would probably echo throughout the night as various stations lower on the food chain got their shot, with likely snippets reappearing in the weeks to come as the situation was over-analyzed.

Professor paused before he spoke. He waited for the sea of clicking from dozens of cameras snapped shots of him at the podium. The sound had always been a little strange in its own way, but today those clicks seemed eerie. Hungry. Alive, somehow. It wasn't a sea of reporters, but some delegation of an alien race chattering anxiously amongst themselves in their languages of clicks and whirring.

Worst part was, likely every one of those cameras were digital, the sounds just for feedback. Just for show. For effect.

Professor forced himself back to the moment, doing his best to hide the fact that for a brief moment his mind had been elsewhere. At least he didn't have the distraction of worrying about his daughters. There had been no reason for them to be here, so they waited at home.

"This is a rather difficult thing for me to say. And, I understand, many people have been waiting to hear it. So I'll do us both favor and cut through the pleasantries."

Professor tried hard to look up at his audience as he spoke, and into the camera. He didn't want to look ashamed or defeated. He probably didn't need his notes at all, but it was still difficult to turn his gaze from the comforting lifelessness of the podium and the still, crisp print on the pristine white paper.

"My daughter, Buttercup, has been dealing with some unexpected issues."

Briefly the sea of alien chatter arose again.

"I see," it said to him. "Fascinating. Just as we'd predicted, yes?"

"These have only recently come to light--in our household, though it seems some fallout has spread beyond it before we had quite decided our course ourselves."

"Interesting," the cameras chirped briefly.

"I can say matters aren't so severe as some would claim, though I'm afraid that beyond that statement I must request you respect our privacy in this matter."

The response was scattered, indignant muttering Professor couldn't quite make out. The reporters themselves were politely silent.

"We are giving this matter our full attention, however, and while we are not certain such measures are necessary, we see no harm in, and thus are seeking to arrange, a psychological evaluation."

The cameras roared, delighted.

"I do not, however, see reason why Buttercup, or any of my daughters, are not fit to continue in both their schooling and their duties as public defenders. My family and I appreciate your patience in this matter--"

Sensing the approaching conclusion, the reporters present burst into a flurry of voice and action, clamoring to make their questions heard. Professor Utonium continued over the sound without missing a beat or raising his voice once decibel.

"--and hope you will continue to trust in us."

* * *

Princess almost broke another screen. Even if she avoided that, the remote shattered on the floor when she stood up and threw it down. She fumed as she watched Professor Utonium make his way through the back door, ignoring the bustling reporters.

The shot then cut back to some newsroom or another, but she didn't care. Him had been wrong. Not one damned bit of useful conversation from her surveillance, and when the family had come forward they'd been almost honest and properly vague. Princess's own publicity experts could hardly have done better.

But what bothered her most was that her video was nearly wasted. If she shared it now she'd just look spiteful, kicking the poor, poor freaks while they were down. Now she'd be doing nothing more than filling in details. At least if she had come forward before they had admitted to anything, it would have been closer to her calling them out.

"Now I know why they say not to make deals with the devil!" Princess cried out to the empty room. "He doesn't know what in the hell he's doing!"

At first nothing happened. Then a worrisome sensation settled in on her. The air was still, but it felt like seething currents of anger were flowing through the room. This sensation lasted only a short while before the room grew dim.

It did so in a most unnatural way, everything growing darker and grittier even while the lamps and ceiling lights seemed to grow brighter. They became spheres of lights that seemed more distant than they really were, shining brightly as if pained by the crushing darkness they could not hold back.

Wisps of smoke or something like steam rose from briefly the huge television screen. A swathe of it melted, dripping into a small pile on the floor as Him strode through it, seeming as angry as Princess. Angrier.

"Shut your accursed mouth, insipid brat!" He growled as he strode quickly towards he. His pleasant, sing-song voice was not to make an appearance this time.

Princess, taken aback by his brashness and fury, started to backpedal when he didn't slow his approach. Her hesitation was too great, however, and one of Him's hard, unfeeling pincers closed around her neck and lifted her off the ground. She gasped and choked, and her hands tried to push open those pincers as much as they tried to hold her up.

"I will not be insulted by such an impudent, insignificant child as yourself!" His eyes glowed fierce red, and Princess swore she saw faint smoke rising from them. The smell of brimstone, smoke, and death hung strongly in the air, quite a change from the normal, sickeningly perfumed aromas that typically accompanied Him.

"And this is far, far from over! They will not escape their dues! They will pay their penance! They will be held before their people, and they will be cursed at and spit upon! They will show their sins to the world and be damned for them! Let the world see their ideals of goodness and perfection brought to the lowest, most primal, and filthiest depths! They dared to claim a throne at the peak of the world, to let themselves be praised an adored as above all others!"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. If not for the faintly visible slits, revealed by the intense glow beneath, Princess would have thought them closed. "If I cannot lay claim to that without such vile suffering, neither shall they."

Princess continued to gape, and her eyes briefly, involuntarily rolled back. When they did so she fell to the ground, coughing and spitting. She felt her neck, which shouted at her in a mixture of pain and relief. The pressure was gone, but she drew back her hands to find them slick with blood.

The lighting was back to normal, but the television screen remained melted. At least there was nothing but burnt circuitry on the other side.

What had she expected? A lasting portal to hell?

The thought chilled her, and she shuddered. She felt drained, crawling to the stand beside her easy chair to call for someone to tend to her injury and again replace the television for the second time that week.

She'd often, privately or in the presence of others, decried Him's efforts to antagonize the girls. His plots, she felt, were needlessly over-elaborate. Especially for one of such power as Him.

Her personal opinion was that he was no devil. No Lucifer. No Mephistopheles. No Baal. No Beelzebub. Just some magical red-skinned fairy who was closer to the Lucky Charms leprechaun than the tempter of ages.

Now Princess thought back to her old pet cat. When she was a child, it had come across a mouse. Princess had watched at first, and several times thought the thing must surely be dead. Princess quickly grew bored, and with no small amount of annoyance in her voice suggested her cat just finish off the damned thin.

She didn't have to wonder why those thoughts returned to her now, and she shuddered again.


	11. Deceived

**Deceived**

Blossom awoke from her light daze of sleep, dancing between dreams and sheer deadness of weariness. Someone was knocking at her door. Remembering her recent bout of stinging, dry-eyed premature wakefulness, and realizing she was going to look through her door anyway, she lifted her head to see who was outside, looking through her eyelids as easily as the wooden door.

Bubbles was standing outside in her nightgown, smiling broadly as if the sun were shining, breakfast on the table, and no publicity nightmares simmered in the world outside their house.

Bubbles waved at her sister. Blossom wondered briefly if Bubbles was violating her privacy and looking back or just assuming her sister would catch the gesture.

"Come in," Blossom called. She immediately wondered if she instead should have answered her question by trying to silently wave her sister in. She didn't chide herself too much. She was happy enough having averted opening her eyes, if only briefly. When Bubbles slipped in, Blossom opened her eyes to be spared the sporadic questions of "are you really awake?" that she assumed would follow if she kept them shut.

Bubbles slipped in demurely, closing the door quietly behind her. For a moment she remained there, her back to Blossom.

Blossom was surprised, almost squeaked with it, when Bubbles turned around and hopped from the door onto her bed. Bubbles slowed her descent near the end, but Blossom had already dropped her head back into the pillow, pressing it deeply, and the bed springs did squeak a little as the two of them bounced on the landing. Bubbles continued smiling. It wasn't a cheery smile, Blossom now realized, but a mischievous one.

"Hey," Bubbles said quietly.

"Hey," Blossom responded with uncertainty. This seemed very different from the last time they briefly shared her bed. Bubbles's mood was different. It didn't seem that she needed anything this time.

Or did she?

No, Blossom hoped. Even a week ago her sister slipping into her room in the dead of night and playfully straddling her, face inches away as her unbound hair hung down, would have raised little more than mild curiosity and annoyance. Now however, nightgowns and bedsheets between them or not, this was decidedly uncomfortable.

A few moments of equally uncomfortable silence passed before Blossom realized she'd have to be the first to speak up.

"Umm, Bubbles? What are you doing?"

"Just wondering," Bubbles said, her wry smile deepening briefly.

Again Blossom paused, hoping she wouldn't have to lead this conversation. The hope proved false. "About what?"

Blossom was briefly horrified when her sister's face began to inch closer to hers. The springs whined in complaint when Blossom again pushed her head back more deeply into the pillow, but Bubbles just moved to whisper in her sister's ear. Even as she did so Bubbles relaxed, letting the full weight of her body rest on Blossom's.

"If you've thought about it yet," Bubbles's voice trickled into her ear. It sounded like sweet honey.

They lay still like that for another short spell until Blossom, heart pounding so hard she imagined Bubbles could feel it through the bed coverings, finally spoke. "About...what?" she asked, nervously, almost fearfully. But was it really her sister she was afraid of right now? Or was it herself?

"You know," Bubbles replied coyly as she raised her head, hovering close. Her hands reached for Blossom's, and only then did Blossom become aware of her own hands gripping the covers tightly near her chest. She found her grip loosed, almost of its own accord, as Bubbles's hands found hers. Bubbles guided their hands until they were on either side of their heads, both of their elbows crooked at an angle, fingers intertwined.

Only then did Bubbles continue. "Have you considered it yet? If you could love one of your sisters like Buttercup and I love each other? To love with every fiber of your heart? Every ounce of your body?"

"Bubbles," Blossom began. She was almost out of breath now. She took in a deep breath before she continued, found her breath shuddering as she let it out, and breathed in again. "What if someone really is listening?"

"Do you really have to be so paranoid? Is it so important to hide this?"

"Bubbles, we've talked about this. You know why we can't let other people know the truth."

"And what is the truth?" Bubbles asked. Before Blossom could reply, Bubbles closed her eyes and parted her lips slightly. Blossom's breath caught and held, but this time she did not move when Bubbles drew closer. Right before their lips met, Blossom closed her eyes.

Several long, wet moments later, Bubbles drew away, and Blossom had to restrain herself from following. She felt light headed. Had to remind herself to start breathing again. There was no helping it now; she was panting.

"Bubbles...this... This isn't right."

Bubbles leaned further back, sitting, her hips resting heavily on hers. Blossom's arms remained laid out where her sister had left them. Bubbles did release her sister's hands, but one of them drifted to her face, stroking it gently as she spoke. "I know that's what you think. Maybe I'll even feel sorry about doing this later."

Blossom's heart caught, and she briefly wondered if her sister was apologizing for what had passed...or something yet to come.

Bubbles continued speaking. "The three of us were always so close. Always so good together. We always understood each other, even when nobody else did. I just wanted you to understand Buttercup and me." Again her smile crooked further. "At least all I did was kiss you. You can be happy for that much, right?"

"But Bubbles..." Blossom started feebly. She failed to finish the thought. Wasn't sure, at this point, if she'd even had a thought to finish.

Bubbles put her finger against Blossom's lips and went, "Shhhh." She drew her hand back and hovered slightly, swinging her legs to the side and standing up. She turned to face her sister, standing straight and tall over her. "Don't talk now. It's too late now. Sleep fuzzies do funny things."

Sleep fuzzies. The phrase had entered their family vocabulary early in elementary school. Blossom hadn't heard it uttered in years, now. Small thing though it was, it evoked a sense of innocence she was desperately happy to hold on to right now.

"Just try kissing me tomorrow and see if you still like it. If you can stand my morning breath, that is." Bubbles winked then backed up slowly to the door. She waved slowly and mouthed "goodnight" before disappearing behind it.

Blossom, suddenly dry-mouthed, found herself dead of thought. Even so, sleep returned very slowly.


	12. Depraved

**Depraved**

A short while later that same night, Bubbles herself was prematurely awoken. Buttercup gently rocked her shoulder (as if anyone rocking your shoulder while you sleep can justly be called "gentle") and called her name in a harsh whisper.

Bubbles pushed herself up with her elbows and rolled to face her sister, who knelt at her bedside. With her free hand she tried to rub the sleep fuzzies away.

"Hey, Buttercup. What's wrong?" She asked the last instinctively. Not only was Buttercup waking her up in the middle of the night an indication something probably wasn't right, but the slightly worried, guilty look on her face (common though it had become these days) was a dead giveaway.

"Bubbles, I'm sorry to wake you up, but... Now that dad's come out and stuff, I've had more time to think about stuff."

Bubbles rolled her eyes.

"Buttercup, please don't worry about it. Not right now." She pulled her elbow out from under her, laying on her pillow instead of propping herself up. She reached out and took her sister's hand, gently rubbing it. "Whatever it is, can't it wait until morning? And shouldn't we go down to dad's soundproof chamber for this, anyway?"

Buttercup swallowed and shook her head. "I don't care anymore. And this is really bothering me, sis."

Bubbles briefly cocked an eyebrow. Buttercup hadn't called her "sis" in years. "Okay..." she started. "What's bothering you, honey?"

Bubbles had never called her sister "honey" before. Somehow it seemed to even the score.

"Do you regret... I mean, do you think we should have... That is..."

Bubbles couldn't restrain herself. She giggled, and justified it with, "Buttercup, you sound like a cross between Mojo Jojo and Porky Pig. After all we've been through, I know you can spit it out if you try." She stopped smiling for a moment, and when she resumed it was a comforting rather than mirthful smile. "I know you know you can trust me, now." She continued sleepily rubbing her sister's hand clasped in her own.

Buttercup nodded and took a deep breath to steady herself. "Having sex. So...so soon."

Bubbles smiled. "I'd hardly call that 'soon,' Buttercup." Bubbles wondered at her sister's name for a moment. The the three-syllables, each hard, with force, maybe suited her sister, but maybe a nickname was due. A pet name, perhaps. "Cuppo," she decided, "things had been building to that for both of us for a while now. Just in different ways. Just because it looks like I decided overnight..."

She sighed. As close to a frustrated sigh as Bubbles ever seemed to come. "Look, Buttercup," the full name emerged again, "I want you to stop worrying about me. I trust you. I trusted you even when you tried to break us up the other night. I let it go because I knew it wasn't that you wanted out, just that you worried about me. But you've got to trust me, too, 'kay?"

Buttercup struggled to smile, however weakly, and nodded.

"All right, then," Bubbles said in her most Blossom-like matter-of-fact tone. "So is that what you were looking for?"

Buttercup smiled. Something about the smile seemed a little off, like Buttercup was silently enjoying some joke only she was in on. But at least she was smiling.

"Yeah. Yeah, that did the trick. Thanks, Bubbles." Buttercup both stood and leaned forward, giving her sister a quick peck on the cheek. This, too, comforted Bubbles, who had noted Buttercup lately seemed to all but withdraw from even Bubbles's casual attempts at physical contact. In fact, it had been that way since...

"Hey, Cuppo?" Bubbles called just before her sister gripped the doorknob. Buttercup paused, then turned to face her sister, smiling. The smile seemed misplaced on Buttercup's face. Bubbles hoped, in time, that sight wouldn't be so foreign to her.

"You aren't... You aren't worried about getting close to me now, are you? I mean, because you feel guilty about what we did?"

Buttercup closed her eyes slowly as she shook her head. "No. Not anymore."

Bubbles smiled back. "Good. Thanks, Cuppo. And goodnight."

"Good night," Buttercup returned as she turned away. In a moment, she was gone, and Bubbles was alone, breathing in the cool night air flowing in from her windows. She found many of her worries had melted away. She found sleep returned easily, welcoming.


	13. Deprived

**Deprived**

A while later still, Buttercup woke to a soft knocking at her door. It was faint. Uncertain. It seemed a miracle to her that it had stirred her from her sleep. She didn't feel that tired, though. Thinking about what might greet her tomorrow, it had been hard to find sleep, and it seemed she hadn't gone deep enough to become groggy yet.

If only she'd held off one more day, tomorrow would be Saturday instead of Friday and she'd have another excuse to stay out of public. The only support she would get would be a brief respite at lunch, and she'd have to start her day off sitting in the very front her history class, as she had sat ever since she'd first set foot therein and realized she was sharing the class with the Ass of Asses, Mitch Mitchelson.

First thing in the morning she'd be wondering about the people staring and talking behind her back. Right now, she didn't mind so much dealing someone right in front of her, whatever they wanted.

Well, close enough to in front of her, anyway. Buttercup focused her gaze to see who was knocking and was mildly surprised to see Blossom standing there. Her sister shifted a little nervously, eyes flitting about the hallway and at the door. She raised her hand to knock again, but Buttercup spoke before she did.

"Come in, Blossom."

Blossom stopped with her knuckles drawn back, mouth hanging open slightly. After the brief hesitation she lowered her hand and ever so slowly, quietly, and gently turned the knob. Buttercup was a little worried, now. It wasn't like Blossom to be so...timid? Was that the word?

Maybe. But it wasn't just timidity. She seemed lost, somehow. She at first poked just her head around the door. "Buttercup, can I come in?"

Buttercup resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Managed not to point out she'd said "come in" already. But she couldn't suppress a brief twitch at the corner of her mouth as she fought off a smirk. "Yeah."

Buttercup slid backwards, sitting up and leaving plenty of room for her sister on the queen-sized bed. She realized as she did so that Blossom might not be so comfortable even sitting on a bed with her now, and decided not to pat one of the empty spots. If Blossom decided to take one, she was welcome to it. But if that sort of stuff is what was bothering her in the first place...

Blossom nodded and slipped inside, squeezing through as though opening the door an inch more than absolutely necessary would sound some alarm. She did indeed take a seat on the edge of one corner on the foot of the bed. She looked at the edge of the floor, where it met the wall shared by Bubbles's and Buttercup's rooms.

"Buttercup, can I talk about something?"

Buttercup's body shook as three soundless chuckles rocked her. She hoped her sister hadn't noticed.

"Of course, Blossom. Anything I can do for you, just ask. I mean, Bubbles and you are better about talking about stuff, but--"

Buttercup was startled. Blossom actually laughed. It sounded troubling, though Buttercup, not too good at reading people, couldn't pinpoint it better than that.

"Now I know how I must make you girls feel, sometimes. I _would_ talk to Bubbles, but I feel like it would just turn into an argument. Like she'd try and bring me over to her way of thinking."

Buttercup frowned slightly and shook her head, though her sister wouldn't see the gesture. "I don't think that's true. Bubbles is good at listening." Quickly, she added, "Not that I don't wanna talk to you. I mean, if you want to talk to me..." Buttercup slowed to a halt, uncertain what to say next. She really wasn't good at this sort of thing.

Blossom turned her head to face her, though Buttercup was sure the position must have been uncomfortable. "Buttercup, when did you realize you were in love?"

Now she really didn't know what to say. "Umm...what?"

"When did you realize you were in love--I mean really in love--with Bubbles? What tipped you off? It must have been something."

Buttercup drew her knees up to her chest and stared at the covers, subconsciously closing herself off from the awkward conversation. Not that it would have been awkward if Blossom weren't so...not herself.

"I guess it was maybe... Well, at least I started wondering after the first night we went out to talk this summer. She made me feel...so comfortable, you know?" Buttercup looked up and was slightly discomfited to find Blossom hanging on her every word, though she wasn't apt to analyze any of it.

"Anyway," Buttercup continued, returning her gaze to the faint, soothing pattern of her comforter, "I horsed around with her a little. Not anything weird, just playing around. Normal stuff, you know? Be we stumbled, I plowed into her, and caught her before either of us hit the ground."

Buttercup paused, analyzing the moment in her mind and struggling to find the words to describe it. She spoke slowly, deliberately. "I'm not sure why, really. I mean, we've all hugged each other before. Stopped each other falling when we get knocked out and stuff. But this time holding her was...different, somehow. I couldn't really finger it right then, but holding her like that, hovering over her... I mean, I was holding her and... I guess, like, she was just limp. Not even floating herself. Just trusting me to keep her from falling. I don't know if that's it, either. Maybe it was a bunch of things."

Buttercup looked up, dismayed. "I'm not helping much, am I?"

Blossom opened her mouth, paused, smiled, then said, "No, I think that's just fine. Bubbles really wants me to try to understand this. Because we've always kind of understood each other, you know? I guess... I don't know. I... I don't know." Blossom shook her head and smiled. "Sorry. I guess this is what I get when I try to have a talk like this when I get tired."

A thought struck Buttercup then and she sat a little straighter. "Blossom, you don't think someone might have really be listening right now, do you?"

Blossom scrunched her eyebrow, seeming to think hard about the simple, albeit unanswerable question. "I guess it's too late to worry about that now." She paused. "Maybe it's wrong to keep this from everyone. I don't know." She relaxed her face and took a quick, deep breath. "I hope not. But I'd really better go to bed. And let you get some sleep, too. I think we've all lost a little too much sleep lately."

"No kidding," Buttercup mused. When Blossom started for the door she finished, "Anytime, okay? I mean, any time you want to talk."

Blossom turned, smiled back, and nodded sharply. "'Kay. Thanks, Cuppo."

Buttercup continued smiling after Blossom disappeared behind the door. Until a sudden thought struck her and she scrunched her eyebrows.

"Cuppo?" she muttered to the empty room. "Where'd that come from?"

But she put the thought from her mind and tried again to find bliss in sleep.


	14. The Morning After

**The Morning After**

It was finally Friday. This had seemed one of the longest weeks the Utonium family had endured. None of them even remembered that last Sunday, less than a week ago, the girls had celebrated their collective eighteenth birthday. On Monday, Buttercup had broken down and come forward to her sister. On Tuesday, Princess had blanketed the school yard with that damned photograph and the media began to stir. Wednesday the girls enjoyed some time away while they made emergency repairs to the international space station. Yesterday their father had gone public, admitting that Buttercup had issues and neither confirming nor, damningly, denying the authenticity of the picture. They tried not to think of what today might bring.

Again Professor was up early, scrambling eggs, frying bacon, and toasting bread. For a change, Blossom wasn't the early riser. Instead, Bubbles, having slept contentedly and drawn down by the tempting aromas, arrived first. She made the expected sounds of appreciative, eager hunger, bid her father good morning, and politely asked to dish up for herself some of the goodness in progress. Bubbles, optimistic by nature, began to think that maybe today would indeed be a good day.

She set her plate on the table, contents steaming, and turned around, ready to grab a glass and pour some juice. She stopped short, surprised to see Blossom standing in the kitchen archway, still in her night dressings as well.

Bubbles smiled. "Morning, Bloss. Want some juice?"

She assumed Blossom was still tired, as she answered "yes" in a decidedly distracted manner. Professor had looked over his should at her and nodded in silent greeting. He returned to his cooking duties immediately, however.

Bubbles turned to grab some glasses, about to ask Professor if he also wanted some orange juice and debating whether she should just pour Buttercup a glass or go wake her up. But Blossom stopped her with a gentle hand on the shoulder, encouraging her to turn back.

Blossom wasn't looking at her sister's face. Her gaze was closer to her neck line, but it seemed she was staring through rather than at Bubbles. Her mouth gaped momentarily, and Bubbles couldn't tell if she was trying to say something or trying to breathe. Then Blossom's eyes met hers and she surged forward, wrapping her arms around Bubbles and trapping Bubbles's right arm against her side in the process.

Bubbles's other hand rose into the air and her fingers spread, as if the member felt rather certain it should be doing something and letting her know it was just ready to be told just what that might be.

For the second time in a week, Bubbles was shocked to find herself on the receiving end of an unexpected kiss from one of her own sisters.

Blossom quickly stepped back, and Bubbles's eyes were still wide. Her reaction wasn't as bad as it had been when Buttercup had done the same, Somewhere between Monday and today, it seemed, she'd become an expert on this sort of thing.

But that didn't stop a surprised "Blossom--what the hell?" from escaping her smiling mouth.

Blossom blinked, seeming to return to reality as she turned to confusion. Professor glanced over his shoulder, still unaware of what had transpired.

A few houses away, a small professional surveillance team, the equivalent of information mercenaries, gawked and smiled at each other. They'd set up shop Wednesday and all had seemed lost when the family managed to grow paranoid and keep their lips tight.

Last night, however, had yielded a gold mine in audio. Now they'd acquired their first useful visual through the kitchen window, from the tiny but powerful camera mounted to the overlarge but otherwise nondescript television antenna on the roof. It peered over the roof of the house behind them, past its and the Utonium residence's front lawns, and it had finally earned its due. Spying on a household almost full of people who could find bugs hidden inside their own house easily incurred extra expense, but at least Princess's purse strings were loose for this assignment.

Only one of them had been manning the equipment during the night. All four of them were awake now and watching, and they simultaneously groaned, inwardly or outwardly, when an influx of static masked Bubbles's response to the kiss. From that point they would catch only snippets of conversation through the static, which would shortly become a high-volumed presentation of _The Devil Went Down to Georgia_.

Two of them would scramble to track down the source of the interference while the others tried desperately to man the equipment and try to get what they could.

But back at the Utonium residence, Bubbles took her sister by the wrist and led her out to the living room. She leaned in close and whispered, her face a mixture of surprise, confusion, and some strange sort of elation. "Blossom, where did that come from?"

Blossom, still confused and a little insulted, started to respond, "But you said..." She then shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Wondering if it had been a dream.

"Glad to see you two talking," Buttercup called from upstairs, smiling as she leaned on the railing from the hallway overlooking the living room.

"That's not the half of it," Bubbles blurted, smiling back. She looked at Blossom, not sure whether she should continue.

Blossom shot back a decidedly Buttercup-like scowl and said, "Forget it."

Bubbles giggled, shrugged, and let it go. She assumed they'd work it out later. After everything else, that wouldn't be so hard, would it? No sense pushing the issue.

"Hey, Cuppo," Bubbles called up, "Wanna come get some breakfast? Dad's cooking."

Buttercup cocked an eyebrow. "What's with the 'Cuppo' stuff? Did Bloss get you started on that?"

Bubbles scrunched her eyebrows and tilted her head. Blossom did likewise and then cocked an eyebrow heself.

"What do you mean?" Bubbles asked. "Don't you remember last night?"

Buttercup smiled, "Yeah. I see she's talked with you about it."

Blossom was very confused. Had Bubbles talked to Buttercup about her visit last night? But that wasn't right. Didn't Buttercup seem to think Blossom had talked to Bubbles about something.

Bubbles was also starting to wonder. "What do you mean? I called you Cuppo when you came to see me."

Buttercup's eyes widened in an expression that clearly said, "The hell you say?" Buttercup herself, however, said, "I didn't see you last night. Just Blossom when she stopped by."

Blossom, growing worried, replied, "I never left my room last night either." She turned to Bubbles again. Already worried about the response, she asked the obvious. "Bubbles, you didn't come to see me either, did you?"

All Bubbles managed was to shake her head.

The three of them shared an uncomfortable moment as they took turns looking at each other, each trying their best to remember exactly what had happened last night.

Bubbles was the first to speak. "I don't think it was a dream. I remember Buttercup waking me up and wanting to talk...about..." She trailed off as her eyes widened in horrified realization. Figuring the damage had already been done last night, she just said it, "Basically about whether I thought we'd rushed into having sex."

Blossom winced at the word. Days later, now, still winced at it. She supposed that wasn't too long, though. She was justified in being upset by it, at least in this context, but all the same would have preferred Bubbles dance around the topic.

Buttercup spoke next. "What I thought was Blossom woke me and asked me to talk about when I first realized I was falling in love with Bubbles. She said you," she looked at Bubbles, "wanted to be sure we all understood each other. Like we've always understood each other, you know?"

They turned to Blossom. She blushed.

"Well?" Bubbles eventually asked. Her sister's sullenness, scowling at the floor, and this morning's surprise kiss told her a lot but left her wondering. Bubbles tried very hard not to smile, even invitingly or comfortingly. Now was not a good time to do that.

"Just forget it, I said," Blossom muttered in a very un-Blossom-like way.

"Blossom?" Buttercup asked worriedly from the railing, floating down to stand next to her sisters. "Are you all right? What happ--"

"Just shut up, okay!" Blossom snapped, turning her scowl to her sisters. The sudden motion flung a tear away from her eye, and Bubbles felt it land on her arm. Blossom snorted, already fighting back mucus as well. "Just shut up! Just shut the--" Blossom stopped, batting away Bubbles's arm when she tried to comfort her.

Blossom turned around, trying to stop the flow of tears. Bubbles was really worried now. What if whoever...whatever it was in this house last night had...

"Blossom," Bubbles asked softly from behind, resisting the urge to touch her sister or hold her close. "Are you okay? Did something happen to you?"

Professor was watching from the kitchen archway now. The three girls caught his gaze. Blossom sniffed again and lifted her head, turning her nose up at the situation. Her eyes on her father, she answered in the tone of someone whose rage was checked only by righteous indignation. "Oh, yeah, something happened all right. Last night what I _thought_ was Bubbles came into my room and... And..."

Her confident demeanor faded again. "And told me to kiss you in the morning and see if I still liked it."

Bubbles sighed. Almost smiled. She was pretty sure now it had been nothing worse than a kiss. But a kiss, it seemed, could be just as--

"_Still_ liked it?" Buttercup asked.

Blossom laughed. She was teetering on the edge of a very long drop. "Yeah, I liked it. So what?" She spun around, glaring at Bubbles again, her steady demeanor returned for the moment. "It wasn't you! It wasn't you, all right?"

But Blossom's face softened again. Her eyes wavered with the coming flood of tears barely held in place by the magnificent power of cohesion. "All right?" she asked again, voice faltering. She had the look and sound of a child asking if their favorite pet dog they'd had and loved since their earliest memories, just recently hit by a truck before their very eyes, was going to be "all right."

Blossom dropped to her knees and let the tears come. She made no effort to mask or muffle the sobs and chokes. Could not, even if she'd tried. This time both her sisters wrapped themselves comfortingly around her. This time she did not withdraw. In fact, she grabbed Bubbles's nightgown over her shoulder, bunching up the cloth in a deathgrip that said, "Please stay with me right now." She was rocked gently back-and-forth as her sisters rocked side-to-side in unison.

Professor joined them, knees popping as he descended to them, behind Blossom, adding one large, comforting hand to the mix. Tears flowed from his eyes, too, but his expression was one of stony sadness. A sadness only one who understands that true pain, while not yet reached, lies just ahead along the road all the same.

* * *

After they had again discussed the strange events of the previous night, just after they took flight for school, their breakfast now cold and forgotten, the surveillance team would find that the man next door had just that morning powered on a pirate country radio station.

When questioned, this neighbor seemed to struggle to answer, claiming he'd just last night had the inexplicable urge to set up the illegal broadcast and had spent all night scavenging parts and hooking things up.

To that point, he'd no electronics or broadcast experience that anyone, including himself, was aware of.


	15. Public Isolation

**Public Isolation**

At this point school was a breeze. Some members of the press were gathered near the school, but the principal had made it clear from the first year the girls attended that he would not stand for the disruption brought on by a crowd of reporters right outside the windows. Of course, after ten years of saving the world in general and the city in particular, such efforts were rare, but the principal had felt it necessary to express his position all the same.

Buttercup in particular found her course easiest, much to her surprise. Short of Mike, she didn't really have any friends at this place. No one worked up the nerve to approach her directly, and so long as she didn't use her super-hearing to pick up the whispered conversations that flanked her, she found it easy to concentrate on class for a change. Even Mitch hadn't dared make any cutting remarks. Even his face had been impassive when he'd entered the room just before class started. Buttercup had actually caught herself smiling at him for some reason she would never understand.

Blossom wasn't much worse off. Some scattered acquaintances had questioned her tentatively, but seeing her worn-down appearance they were quick to drop the subject when she dismissed it. To everyone, at least for now, she was just a bystander anyway. Best of all, Princess, who had bought her way into every honors class Blossom rightly earned a place in, was nowhere in sight.

Bubbles, on the other hand, while she had few she would call friends, was cursed with multitudes of people who counted her as a friend. Being as close to ground zero as anyone, it was unsurprising that a wide variety and seemingly endless quantity of questions had flown her way. She gave each no more than it deserved. Sometimes this was ignoring it, other times shaking her head and smiling at its ludicrousity, and a few rare gems were usually met with variations of "don't worry about it."

She was very happy that Mike had not asked her any questions that day.

The girls lunched together on the roof in paranoid silence. Whatever happened at home, out in the open they knew the reporters wouldn't hesitate to turn up the zoom on their cameras.

In the bustle after their only class together, Bubbles had informed Mike that she'd be leaving him out of lunch today and said he shouldn't wait up for her or Buttercup after school. Though she could fly much faster, Bubbles usually rode with Mike in his convertible when they decided to head to his house after school. Buttercup had also taken to the habit, accompanying her sister in the weeks between the start of school and the start of the fiasco Bubbles wanted to distance Mike from. She might still pay Mike a visit, she'd said, but, she'd told herself, only without risking the equivalent of a holiday parade, or drawing attention Mike's way at all.

Then lunch was over and after another run of classes the girls met on the roof again, part of some unspoken agreement they nevertheless understood.

"I'm thinking of getting out of the house today," Bubbles said, leaving out specifics and turning the conversation away from the loaded question of "how was your day" she feared would come if someone didn't stop it.

"I wouldn't mind that, either," Buttercup agreed.

Blossom drew breath and held it, choosing her words with care. "All right. We should probably head home first, though. Bubbles," she continued, giving her sister a significant look, "why don't you lead the way today."

One of the benefits of being a coherent team for the entirety of their lives, even when the heat of battle hindered use of the spoken word, was that some things were understood without saying anything.

Bubbles nodded, smiling with that understanding. The three took off as streaks of light towards their suburban home, but when they drew near Bubbles swerved away, flying low back to and through the city, slower and without the light trail.

Maybe for some, coming so close to home would be reason enough to at least tip off their father while they were in the area, but not when going anywhere in this city was no more difficult than walking between adjacent rooms of a house.

But when Bubbles touched down on the Believe house porch it finally dawned on her.

She bit her lip, wondering if Blossom had thought something else was in mind. Maybe another strategy meeting in some distant corner of the world. "Sorry, Blossom, but we were just thinking of visiting Mike."

Blossom shrugged, uncaring. "That's all right. You don't mind if I tag along, do you?"

Buttercup smiled. Bubbles did, too, and stepped forward to embrace her sister in a cautious hug. Maybe it seemed a small thing, but they knew Blossom requesting to spend time at Mike's was a sure sign she needed her sisters close. "Never," Bubbles stated. "We'd never want to leave you out."

Blossom didn't seem to respond to the embrace at all. Even after it had ended she seemed like it hadn't happened. "You don't really have a choice but to leave me out. Of some things, anyway." A hint of a smile finally crept through her stony expression, its power too great to be restrained. "Two's company, three's a porno?"

It took her sisters a moment to respond to the inappropriate attempt at humor, in part to recognize it and in part to force out nervous laughter to avoid making things harder.

"Maybe we should head in and wait for Mike?" Bubbles suggested.

"Can we get in?" Blossom asked.

"'Course. I've got a key."

Bubbles did indeed have a key. It shouldn't have surprised Blossom in the least. In some not-so-distant past, her less preoccupied might might have recalled the fact before asking.

Inside, they sat on the living room couch, Bubbles, Blossom, then Buttercup.

Blossom didn't take long to continue speaking, staring into the empty television screen. "About last night... Maybe it was you. Maybe it wasn't. I know it wasn't, now, but in my mind there wasn't any difference at the time. Maybe I do understand a little better, even if I don't agree. I don't know if it could have gone farther than a kiss, but...I don't want to know." But Blossom knew. Was fairly sure of it. But she would never bring herself to say it to her sisters. Her father, certainly, next time she had a moment alone with him, but not here and now.

"But I do know this is one thing I don't want to be a part of. I'm sure of it. We're not identical, we're not the same, and it's fine by me if you two have something together I'm not a part of. In fact, I don't think it bothers me at all anymore. I still have a nagging suspicion it'll only end in tears for both of you, but what do I know, right?"

A pregnant silence entered the room then. Finally, Buttercup chirped, "Blossom, when have you ever had a suspicion _without_ nagging?"

After a few strained moments spent suppressing it, they all laughed this time, and with relief rather than nervousness. After several minutes this welcome visitor eventually faded off, leaving them in a decidedly more pleasant silence.

In the lighthearted atmosphere, Bubbles dared to ask, "So, uh... _Did you_ still like it?"

Blossom smiled, knowing what her sister meant. She leaned her head against Bubbles's shoulder, against her neck. "It's not worth the complications. Ordinary, everyday sister works just fine for me, thanks."

Suppressed laughter was clearly heard lurking again behind Buttercup's voice. "So I take it that's a 'yes?'"

Blossom smiled at the T.V. It was her little smile, shown to villains and her siblings alike. It was a smile that made it perfectly clear that Blossom felt their dues were coming, and that she knew just how to deliver them.

Blossom leaned further into Bubbles and brought one leg up in a playful backwards kick at Buttercup. Her sister reacted to the intentionally slow, clumsy attack by grabbing Blossom's leg. She then reached out and grabbed Blossom's other leg. Blossom issued a playful faux scream when Bubbles slid her arms underneath hers. Bubbles then clasped her hands behind Blossom's head, holding her sister's arms uselessly out.

Blossom kicked one of her legs free and continued struggling, laughing. Their little wrestling match continued thusly for a brief while until the couch suffered for it. One armrest was blown nearly off by Blossom's kick, hanging limply near the floor by a mere thread of shredded wood. The center bowed inward, and the backing on the side opposite the fallen armrest was slightly separated from the cushions. They heard a cracking sound that made them fear they'd dug the couch legs into the floor, damaging it as well.

They froze where they were, looking at each other with guilt in their faces. They found none of them could restrain their laughter for long, though, and it was the sound of this laughter that greeted Mike when he walked through the door.


	16. The Bang

**The Bang**

Mike smiled strangely at the sight of the trio tangled on what was left of the family couch. The girls' guilty silence at his entrance.

Mike laughed, though. Nervously at first, but it became a deep belly laugh. Now all four of them were joined in mirth, though not for too long. Mike sat in an easy chair in the same room, and stopped laughing as he seemed to suddenly regard the coffee table with great interest.

The girls quieted again, but Blossom spoke up quickly. "Sorry about the couch. I hope you don't mind my being here..."

Mike smiled briefly and waved off Blossom's concern like it didn't matter. Bubbles knew better; the strained relations between Mike and Blossom had indeed bothered him, though by now he'd resigned himself to it.

Mike continued to gaze at the coffee table. "I heard some things on the radio just now. I figure you probably..." Mike drifted off, shook his head slowly, and got back up. He turned the T.V. on and started flipping through channels. He stopped at a local news break.

"--even if they are of legal age, it's all irrelevant. The law states that sexual intercourse between close blood relatives, irregardless of their respective genders, ages, or the consensuality of the act, is illegal!"

Mike didn't doubt this was related what he'd just heard some radio jockey whining about on the drive home. Of course, Mike wouldn't be so lucky as to stumble onto something covering the topic from the beginning, now would he? No, he thought. Things were rarely that convenient in real life.

Now Mike had to contend with the girls' divided attention as they listened to the television and to him. His staring at the floor probably didn't help him in capturing their attention, either. "Someone was still watching. A licensed surveillance group. They've come forward and say they're finished now, but they've got video. They caught you," he nodded in Blossom's direction, "kissing Bubbles. Worst, though, they have audio of you girls talking about Bubbles and Buttercup having made love."

Blossom winced, and that's when she noticed her eyes were tearing up. "Having made love" didn't sting so much as the brutal, inelegant "sex," but it was a blow all the same.

They'd discussed that morning the possibility that what had happened last night was nothing more than a ploy to make them talk. Bubbles's and Buttercup's respective experiences hadn't been at all harmful that they could tell. While Blossom's visitor had actually ended up stirring up trouble, that didn't seem to be the main point.

But Blossom felt sick, now. Her stomach muscles seemed intent on pulling her into a ball. She knew she had to be strong. She had to lead her sisters onward. Right now, though, she couldn't even look to see how they reacted.

"This is awful," Blossom groaned. And it was. Unless they could dispute the recordings, lie, or both, her sisters had been caught in an act that was indisputably wrong and would stir up not only their detractors put probably turn quite a few of their admirers and fans against them. And now even Blossom had been drawn into the mix. What had she said just a few minutes ago? Two's a scandal, three's...an abomination? That's what she should have said, anyway. That's what she was now thinking.

They were all part of it, now. Not even Blossom could remain as a thread to hold them up. That thread, too, would be severed. Perhaps just as tragically, this meant Professor would inevitably be drawn in as well. What kind of man was he, then, to raise three daughters who couldn't keep out of each other's skirts? How dismal a failure he must seem to everyone. No doubt the old schoolyard taunts of their yesteryears, questioning the intentions of a lonely middle-aged man making little girls in his basement, would return in force. Only this time those questions would be raised by professionals and debated by experts.

Blossom buried her face into her hands and broke down for the second time that day. Her sisters' hands on her back brought her no comfort.

"I'll call dad," Bubbles said almost inaudibly. The couch creaked when she stood, and some small piece of shattered wood feel just as softly to the floor.

All of a sudden Blossom stopped crying. She gritted her teeth and pulled her hands into fists, scratching one of her cheeks in the process. Cheeks that could be grazed by a bullet and come out unscathed, easily scratched by her mere fingernails.

She grunted in rage and punched the spot Bubbles had just risen from, her hand plunging through the leather and cushioning, breaking springs with a muffled, almost musical sound, and bringing her not one ounce of satisfaction.

Blossom stood and flew out, shattering the front door into a thousand splinters, the whoosh accompanying the sudden flight knocking over decorations and ripping pictures from the wall. Bubbles, already standing, took off after her sister as soon as the shock had passed, but by then she was nowhere to be seen.

Blossom landed hard, bursting through a roof and the ceiling of the room below the attic, cracking the tiled floor where she planted her feet.

Princess was nowhere to be found in her usual spot. Startled workers, struggling to remove the television with the half-melted screen, stared at her in shock and amazement. Blossom ignored them and peered through the walls, floors, and ceilings, searching for some sign of her... Her what? Prey? Target? Victim?

Whatever it was going to be, it wouldn't be pretty, but Blossom didn't care right now. This was Princess's doing, she was certain. She'd gone too far. Even the doppelgangers of last night must surely be connected somehow.

Princess was not in sight, but Blossom noted the metal structures beneath the mansion, their contents shielded from her view as always. Last time she'd been here she'd had no excuse to look further. Even now she had no real justification, but she was going in anyway.

Down, then, through more floors, out more ceilings, and ignoring the elevator shaft to plunge through the earth and come tearing through several solid inches steel. Once inside, super-visibility was no better, as even the interior walls were shielded. Instead she focused her hearing hard and, when nothing was immediately apparent, began to streak through the corridors at lightning speed.

Princess's voice finally caught her ear as someone reported Blossom's break over the phone, and Blossom sped straight through the steel walls between them. The thick, strong metal shredded as easily as paper.

Princess, always one to break the rules, had begun to win by turning those rules to her advantage. Blossom wanted it to be perfectly clear that she, too, was capable of ignoring those rules. She wanted to make it perfectly clear that the only reason Princess was still around to do these things was because Blossom and her sisters had played by those rules until now. She wanted to let Princess know that if rules and civility were cast aside by both parties, there could be only one outcome.

But really, deep inside, she just wanted someone to suffer for her own pain.

Blossom pulled to a stop after bursting through the sliding door of the chamber Princess was in. The steel slab, flying death, crashed into the wall opposite as steel embedded itself in steel.

Princess dropped the phone and stumbled backwards, tripping over her own feet and falling onto her behind. Blossom noted gauze wrapped around Princess's neck and briefly wondered if she'd someone expected even this visit. Planned on pretending to receive a vicious beating even if whichever of the girls who showed didn't deliver.

Blossom's knuckles cracked as she tightened her fist enough to crush diamonds. Or, if comic books were to be believed, make them.

Blossom walked slowly across the dim, nearly empty room, stopping ten feet away from the still-prone Princess. Always large empty spaces with this girl. A room large enough to serve as a warehouse used to house a single small desk against one wall, upon which a telephone and her laptop rested.

Princess smiled, but weakly. When she spoke, her voice was strained, as if afflicted by laryngitis. "The man doesn't disappoint, does he?"

Blossom's upper lip curled until her teeth showed. It took considerable effort to lower it again.

"Never would have thought..." Princess had to pause to gain strength to finish the thought. "All three of you."

Blossom closed the distance. No slow, menacing stride this time. Just speed and fury, restrained only by years of habit brought on by living in what seemed a cardboard world filled by people made out of over-wet clay. All the same, when Princess was slammed into the wall, now near the embedded steel door, and her head hit with such force the world grew briefly dim. She did not pass out, however.

At least this time, Princess mused, she wasn't being held by the neck. Blossom just grabbed a bunch of her blouse in a fist and held her there. Compared to yesterday this was almost comfortable.

Blossom wanted to say a thousand things at once, but they collided in her throat and none of them manged to squeeze out.

"What are you going to do, Blossom? Break my neck? Ha!" Her brief attempt at laughter was strained and cracked, and led her to cough. "And I thought he was a joke."

Blossom's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What 'he?' The guy you've sent to watch us?"

Princess smiled but decided the effort of a chuckle was too much a strain. "No, you idiot. I'm talking about Him."

"Him who?" Blossom asked, not yet catching on.

"_Him,_" Princess repeated. "You-know-who."

Blossom's eyes widened in surprise and Princess slid from her grasp. Only when one knee dropped a little too hard on the unyielding floor did Princess realize she'd been several feet off the ground.

Blossom stared at the small smear of blood on the wall where Princess had been.

"Him," she whispered to the smear.

Blossom remained for a moment longer before disappearing in a flash of pink light.

Princess, nursing the knee she'd bruised in her fall, decided to let this go for a change. She was growing tired of abuse by superhuman beings, and now it was clear their buttons could stand for no more pushing.


	17. Angels in Darkness

**Angels in Darkness**

Blossom returned home to find her sisters were already there. She'd come in through one of Bubbles's open bedroom windows, not unlike when they were kids. She plodded down the stairs to find her family in the living room.

The blinds were drawn.

"Blossom, are you okay?" Buttercup asked.

Blossom looked down and noticed her clothes were ripped and torn in places. She was completely uninjured, but tearing through dirt and steel had left her clothes looking like they'd been through a war zone.

"I'm all right," Blossom said, sounding and feeling herself again. "Just blowing off steam." She'd wait to tell them where she'd blown it. Realizing her dirty state, she declined the seat offered her and instead stood before the television (which was thankfully turned off). She looked to each of them as she asked, "When was the last time Him came after us?"

Professor was the only one who continued to return her gaze. Blossom's sisters turned inward, sifting through memories of a thousand battles and more (and that more than likely only covered the last year or so) in search of the answer to that.

"Well," Buttercup said, "he did give the Rowdyruff Boys their powers back."

"I'm pretty sure he must have given them that spear," Bubbles added.

"The Spear of Destiny, I know," Blossom said. "And before that he gave the Hatter the ability to jump into and control other people's bodies."

And turned the Hatter's original body into a painfully twisted, dessicated husk in the process, she would have added. She didn't need to. They all remembered very well.

"But when was the last time he came directly at us? Challenged us face-to-face? Put us through some trial or tried to get back at us?"

Again her sisters sifted through their memories, as Blossom had sifted through hers on the trip home. Again the Professor did not look away.

"Man, not since we were kids, maybe?" Buttercup offered.

"Yeah, I can't remember either," Bubbles added.

"How much do you want to bet that was Him last night? Impersonating..." Blossom paused, fighting back rising bile as she remembered the kiss and her feelings at that point. "Impersonating each of us?"

"What makes you think it was Him, Blossom?" Professor asked calmly.

"I... I was just at Princess's. I'm probably gonna catch some heat for that," Blossom admitted, fidgeting a little. "I kind of tore through the house and the under works to find her. She had bandages on her neck. She'll probably finger me for that, too. But she said 'the man does not disappoint.' She told me she was talking about Him."

Several moments of silence passed before Bubbles asked the obvious question. "But why now?"

"And more importantly," Blossom added, "why not before now?"

No one offered an answer, though Professor did eventually speak. "Those are all very good points, Blossom, and we shouldn't ignore them, but we have other problems on our hands right now. It doesn't much matter what part Him had in this any longer."

"But..." Buttercup started. She hesitated, wondering if she wanted to suggest the possibility. "Do you think maybe Him really was responsible for my feelings?"

Professor shook his head. "I don't think so, sweetie. You said yourself those were a long time in coming."

"But he's obviously capable of patience," Blossom said. "He's been waiting to act for years, it seems. Either that..." Blossom wasn't sure what the alternative would be just yet, and her father interrupted her thoughts prematurely.

"In any case, it seems we have no secrets any longer. The mayor herself called me." Miss--pardon, it was Mrs. now--Sara Bellum had gained political favor after the aging mayor of the girls' childhood had retired. The girls didn't have to ask what he'd told her. They did not doubt it had been the truth.

If the girls hadn't gathered that on their own intuition, they would have caught on as their father continued speaking after a steadying breath. "There won't be any prison time. At least not before trial. The investigation is already starting. Of course, she isn't going to tell anyone what I told her, but she is going to pull favors. She said to think of it as 'free bail for services already rendered.' She doubts this will turn into jail time at all. That's not what the majority are looking for. Fines, on the other hand, no one would care about. And I would agree with her on both points. At worst, we're probably looking at censure, public apologies, court ordered therapy, and even though you're legally adults now, possibly...forced separation."

And there the conversation ended. Rover got run over. Your best pal Timmy wouldn't be coming over to play any more. Uncle Charlie had fallen asleep on the ride to the Thanksgiving get-together and everyone gathered around the old station wagon was just now realizing he'd never open his eyes again.

The phone rang. Professor Utonium let it ring twice more before rising to answer it in the kitchen. "Hello? Yes, Gregory, it's me."

Blossom's sisters scooted together, occupying the center spot their father had vacated. Blossom walked over to them, descending to her knees. Their hands all joined together in a pile between them, and they remained there for several minutes while listening to their father discuss legal details with their friend Gregory, who even now refused to abandon them.

Then, without warning, Blossom smiled. She removed her hands from the pile and stood, leaning in to plant a quick, modest kiss on Buttercup's lips.

"There," she said, returning to her knees. "We're all even, now."

They all smiled, but they did not laugh. They were all even, now. Even, indeed.


	18. Faust Was Farce

**Faust Was Farce**

The girls decided to camp out on the living room floor that night, curled up together under a large blanket on a bed of sheets over the plush carpet. When being together had seemed a given they'd strayed apart, almost strangers under their shared roof. Now under the threat of losing each other, they clung desperately to their bonds.

Professor Utonium, however, didn't find sleep so easily. Could not permit it. He was instead in his lab below, bringing up years-old files and analyzing them, hoping a suspicion he'd ignored for years might bear fruit.

He saw his visitor's reflection in the polished surface of the metal cabinet doors.

"Very clever. I suppose they don't call you 'Professor' for nothing, do they?" Him's sing-song voice rang out. Professor didn't bother turning around. "But, really, isn't this just a technicality?"

He left his computer to run its calculations, turning to put a question mark next to a line on a notepad. He'd tried hard to come up with every single possible way his girls could escape this. Any thread, however thin, that could be used to lift them from the coming fire.

Him continued, unphased. "All the same, it seems there is some power in technicalities. I was so hoping to keep you around long enough to watch the downfall of your little darlings. Though I suppose they're not so little any more, are they? In any case, Professor, I believe you know why I'm here."

Professor ignored him, tapping his pencil on the next point on the notepad, wondering if there was any way it applied to their situation.

Him frowned, but Professor did not see this. He did, however, hear Him's change in voice. "I've come to collect!"

Professor dropped the pencil and drew his hand in, gripping his chest and gasping in momentary pain. Then there was a sharp _crack_, like miniature lighting, and the pain subsided.

"What's this?" Him demanded, astonished. His voice remained deep and menacing, as it would for the remainder of his visit.

Professor took a few moments to catch his breath again. Only when he was ready did he turn to face the devil. To look him in the face for the first time in nearly a decade.

"You're the one who had to bring up technicalities," he said. "Go on, look at it."

Him scowled and unfurled a yellowed scroll from thin air. Only a few people throughout the ages had seen such a contract. Those people all knew the power behind them, as well. The terms were enforced not by the power of the devil, but by that of their own immortal souls. After all, who would make deal with the devil if they believed the fiend could change or ignore the terms at a whim?

Him read it aloud as Professor pretended to resume his work. In truth, he was too distracted to give anything but Him his full attention, but he didn't want to show it.

"'I, the undersigned, hereby agree that the devil, a.k.a. Lucifer, a.k.a. that old snake,' yadda yadda yadda, 'has full rights to and control of my mortal life and immortal soul,' blah blah blah--accursed boilerplate. 'That the devil and all his demonic forces shall not directly influence, harass, attack, or otherwise interfere with the lives of Blossom Utonium, Bubbles Utonium, and Buttercup Utonium, also known as the Powerpuff Girls, and that such restraint shall remain until September the sixth, in the year of our Lord 2015, hitherto noted as their eighteenth birthday.

"Likewise, said forces shall avoid said activities against the undersigned until the aforementioned Powerpuff Girls begin the first day of their fourteenth year of life. Failure by the devil or any of his demonic forces to comply with the above terms shall result in their inability to, from that moment and three hundred years hence, directly or indirectly influence, harass, attack, or otherwise interfere with the lives of any member of the aforementioned members of the Utonium family, their spouses, or their descendants.'"

Him let the scroll roll up and it vanished. He slammed a pincer onto the Professor's desk. "Now what's wrong with that? The date has passed and I can _and have_ acted freely again! I distinctly remember the girls were counted as being five years of age when they came into this world. Their first year of life began at age five. Add thirteen to each and you have their fourteenth at age eighteen!"

Professor looked up at Him, no trace of fear in his eyes. "September sixth is the day I found the answer. September sixth is the day the girls were born in my mind. September sixth is when I decided to celibate their birthday, because when they asked me about birthdays I didn't want them to wait two more weeks to enjoy one. Because of that I let everyone believe I kept the girls hidden for almost three weeks until I straightened things out, but it was really less than one. September _twentieth_ is the day they were created. On September _twentieth_, A.D. 2015, they will begin the first day of their fourteenth year of life."

Him sneered. He fumed. Raged. Professor could feel the seething anger. He tried to remind himself that he was safe, and with some effort his smile held firm.

"The funny part? When I signed that just after the girls' eighth birthday, I didn't give it another thought other than to do in my mind the same bit of math you just did to make sure the wording _you_ offered fit.

"But I've had ten years to think about it. I never dared hope it would turn to my advantage, but there you have it. Since Sunday you could have tormented them however you wanted. Strung them up to be ravaged by demons, if you wanted. You had another," Professor paused to check the time. It was indeed just after midnight. He continued, "eight days or so before you could lay a finger on me. And now, if I'm not mistaken, you can't touch any of us. Not even _indirectly_, at this point. Ever."

Him drew his lip up in a sneer, revealing rows of sharp teeth. "Perhaps, but you will die someday, dear Professor. And while I may not harass you until that day comes, neither have I violated the contract. I cannot. I've merely triggered another clause, and I assure you that your soul shall remain mine. And I can promise you, dear Professor, that I shall repay you double for this during your first hour in my possession. Your eternal torment shall be beyond your mortal mind's comprehension. You might gloat this day, but I assure you, a mortal's life is all-too-brief."

And with that, Him was gone. Simply vanished in the blink of an eye. Professor was alone; was safe. He, his girls, and his current work.

Only now did he dare turn to his monitor and see if his long-ignored suspicions had proved meaningful.

"Was it worth it?" he wondered briefly, thinking to himself.

Yes. Yes, it most certainly had been worth it. He looked to the last ten years of his daughter's lives. Thought about the harm Him had caused last night alone.

Professor Utonium did not doubt he would pay for what he'd bought them, and knew, like Kevin's arranged "accident," he could never tell the girls just what had been given for sake of their happiness.


	19. The Whimper

**The Whimper**

They were rushed to trial, waiving the right to a jury trial to speed the process. What might normally start with confirmation that a trial was needed, then leading to weeks or months of waiting for the real event, had been condensed into bringing together lawyers for the state, asking each side's willingness to continue, and accepting the offer of a respected old judge to come briefly out of retirement so as to avoid interfering with the other hearings already booked. Less than a week after the damning audio reached public ears, they were underway. This was just as well, as the Utoniums and the mayor (and just about anyone on the street if you asked their opinion) felt, for various reasons, that the girls should keep out of school.

Nobody had minded moving this along. Especially when Professor and, at his suggestion, his daughters cooperated every step of the way. Even long before they being sworn to it, they told only truth. They left out only details that did not change their situation and which they could not prove, such as that half the audio on those tapes wasn't actually spoken by them.

But all the same, they pleaded not guilty, even when the judge and, for that matter, the offense pointed out that their admissions were going to be mentioned when official matters began. In any case, that brief meeting had been enough to establish the need for the trial they were now undertaking.

So when the withered old judge once again found himself banging a gavel, he smiled when Gregory stood, expecting this would be good. Hoping it would be, as speaking out of turn was not generally tolerated.

"Yes, Mister Turner?" the judge asked.

"Your honor, I received a phone call a short while ago. Professor Utonium wishes to apologize for his tardiness, but says the delay was due to an urgent matter relevant to this hearing. If it please your honor, may you instruct the--"

"Yes, yes," the judge interrupted, dismissing the matter with a flick of his wrist, anticipating the request to permit entry while proceedings were in progress. "Bailiff, if the good Professor should make an appearance, have him escorted directly. Now, on to opening statements."

So on they went. The girls, uncertain what had prompted the delay, knew only that they'd awoken to find a note telling them to go on without him and that he had something to take care of.

The offense went first, explaining the grievances of the state, simply saying what was obvious to everyone at that point.

Gregory Turner spoke next, again stating merely the obvious. Bringing into question the very definition of blood relatives, reminding all that the act had occurred after the girls were, for legal purposes, eighteen years of age. (Their true date of birth remained a secret only the Professor and Him shared, but in any case previous legal concerns had led to a ruling that, unless overturned, would have made that tidbit irrelevant.)

The judge again confirmed that the defense was admitting to a sexual act "between the parties in question," and after an uncertain pause Gregory affirmed this before reaffirming his clients' plea of "not guilty."

While Gregory was in the process of pointing out that the act in question had also been consensual under sound mind and body, Professor Utonium was led into the room. He was panting, clutching a folder to his chest.

"Not...sisters... Not..." he spat, grimacing with each word. He clutched the folder tighter, wrinkling it in his grip. To everyone's shock he dropped to the floor.

His girls were at his side immediately. Blossom looked inside her father, to the problem within.

"He's having a heart attack," she called. She was alert. Fired up. But she was also calm and commanding. She hadn't remained her sisters' leader for nothing.

Professor, still conscious but in pain, held out the folder to Blossom with a trembling hand. She snatched it, ignoring it for now as she tried to ease her father into a half-sitting position with his knees bent. The bailiff was already calling for medical attention.

"It's all right, girl," the judge intoned. "Go ahead and get him to the hospital. This can wait."

Blossom nodded grimly, picking her father up in her arms. She hadn't realized she'd passed the folder to Buttercup. Buttercup was hardly aware she'd taken hold of it.

Blossom blew out one of the windows with a puff of breath, blasting the glass safely away before she flew through in a rush with the Professor.

"What's that there?" Gregory asked, nodding at the folder. Buttercup, who'd been debating whether she should ask permission to leave, still hadn't noticed it, and was surprised to see it had found its way to her hands. She shrugged and handed it over.

"You, too, girls," the judge said. "I think this is sufficient cause for a brief recess. Go and be with your father."

While the others discussed whether temporary repairs to the window were in order, or whether they should move to another room, Gregory flipped through the folder that had been delivered at such great cost.

It took him a while to decipher what he was looking at. It didn't take long to see that it was some kind of genetic testing; he'd seen a few paternity tests in his time. But somewhere in the middle, he found the actual results. The core of the matter buried like a footnote in the material supporting it.

"My God," Gregory muttered. "They're--"


	20. The Price of Family

**The Price of Family**

"Cousins," Professor confirmed from his bed. He'd been treated for the attack, but the doctors held him for further tests and observation. He would not be returning to court that day. Still, even if it meant delaying his girls' return, he wanted to make sure they heard this from him first.

"You were born together and raised together, but genetically you're not siblings. The closest analog to your situation is first cousin. This may not change anything you feel towards each other, but maybe... Between your lack of parentage, common or otherwise, and this..."

Blossom shook her head in confusion and doubt, wondering if her father had buried himself too deep into this mess to see past the smallest details. "But that still makes us family, right? How does that help?"

"I know," Buttercup said quietly. As with most trips through the Internet, you sometimes came across a few interesting side attractions on the way to your destination. She made sure to speak loudly enough for everyone to understand what she said next. "The law's different when it comes to cousins. Some states allow it and some states don't. Cousin relationships and even marriage is legal in California and a bunch of other states, and a lot of other countries, too."

Professor nodded. "That's right, sweetie." He spoke weakly, but while his body was weakened his mind remained sharp and his tongue true, every bit the lecturer his title claimed. "Genetically speaking, cousin relationships are nowhere near as dangerous as others, despite what a lot of people think. For millennia the human race has been moving forward through cousin couples. Especially in times before people could travel the world so freely. People, at least in our country, seem to forget how far that foundation has taken us, and for one reason or another exaggerate the problems with cousin offspring. Sadly, to the public, the idea of you girls being together as mere cousins is only marginally less distasteful. But to the law, I hope, there will be little choice but to let it go."

Processor decided it was best to send them on their way soon. If he waited until a doctor showed up to send them off they'd probably just listen in from the courthouse and be distracted from the task at hand. "I used old blood samples to confirm the testing at a lab. The doctor tested under false names, but he'll testify if needed. The court will probably order another test to be certain, in any case. You girls should head back there now and try to straighten this out. I'll be fine right here, and you can come see me as soon as you're free, all right?"

His daughters, for in his heart and theirs that is what they have always been to him, nodded. Bubbles was still wet-eyed, though it was more joy and relief than fear or sorrow. They took turns to hug him, gently, before they left together for the courthouse.

Some time later--Professor didn't have his watch and the clock on the wall seemed to have perished at 9:27 at some point in the past--a doctor finally did arrive, closing the door behind him.

"Professor," the man began, using that title of respect that the majority of the city employed for him. Whether out of habit or because that respect remained even through the current uncertainties, this man who was nearly as old as the Professor himself chose to continue using the word. This somehow pleased the Utonium father.

"I'm not sure what to say. These results are drastically different than those from your physical in April. It seems your heart has suffered some sort of severe trauma recently. Though if I had to say, even given what you and your girls get involved in, I'd be shocked if all this happened just this morning. Tell me, Professor, have you noticed anything unusual about the state of your health in the last few months?"

Professor thought he did, but he wouldn't share his suspicions. Perhaps Him could do no further harm in his lifetime. Perhaps Him would still have his soul when all was said and done. But that contract, he pondered, had allowed Him to strike out, even if it had been for the last time.

The damage had been done, it seemed, but Professor was grateful that Him hadn't decided to kill him though some speedier means, such as blasting his insides all over his lab.

"No, doctor, I can't say that I have. A few weeks--closer to a month ago I had what may have been a mild attack, now I think of it." He was already crafting the lie to distance his pain from his daughters. Shifted the time line to a point before things had started to fall apart. To such a time that even if stress received the blame, the stress of the last two weeks could not take it all.

"If that's the case then I'm afraid I have no explanation at the moment," the doctor replied. No doubt he still believed there had been something to trigger this. His tone seemed to imply that if Professor was lying, that telling the truth would somehow make it all better.

"So what about my current condition? And future?"

The doctor sighed. "Well, I suppose I can't say much about the future. Without knowing what brought this on or whether it will continue, you might not last this conversation. Assuming things progress normally from here, however, I can't say they're much better. I'm sorry, but the damage to your heart tissues is quite severe. The amount of dead tissue is simply... Even with what treatment we can manage, at best we can ease your suffering and extend your life. Perhaps even for a few years."

Professor locked onto that alternative. Had to. He knew Him was out of the picture, and had to imagine he'd have time to make it better. He was a mad scientist of sorts, after all. He'd even managed to create life. Maybe he could push medical science as he had chemical and mechanical.

"We could put you on the recipient list for a new heart, though I will admit, given the waiting--"

Professor shook his head three words into that sentence, and eventually interrupted it. "No, doctor, I don't think I'll allow that. Maybe if the organ cloning everyone says is just around the corner shows up, but even then, at my age, we know my chances of surviving the surgery are slim. Leave the donor organs for younger people, who have a better chance and more to gain."

"That is your choice," the doctor said. His tone indicated he thought it was the wrong one, even if he acknowledged it was the noble one.

"What sort of treatment are we looking at?"

"Well, your cholesterol is still about average, but you could stand to have those passageways as clear as can be. Unfortunately, we can't afford to risk even that small amount of potential damage in cleaning them. No, at best all we can offer are aspirin prescriptions, and some glyceryl trinitrate to place under the tongue if--_when_ an attack does come on." The doctor paused, and apparently decided the details wouldn't be as useful as the broad picture. "Basically, we can't do much to prevent further attacks, short of keeping you rested. I'm not sure we can even safely justify cardiovascular exercise at this stage. Your heart is too damaged, and it can't limp on forever. At best we can reduce the severity of those attacks and hope you continue to hold out."

Professor nodded, understanding and, ultimately, accepting. "You said I might have a few years at best. What's the worst case? Assuming whatever caused this is done and gone, of course."

The doctor took a long, cautious breath. "To be perfectly honest, Professor... Had even today's attack continued without such prompt treatment... Well, we wouldn't be talking right now."


	21. Rebuilding

**Rebuilding**

At the courthouse, Gregory and the girls shared the Professor's findings. The judge was quiet for some time before he did as Professor had predicted, ordering a retest by an unbiased party agreeable to both sides. After the day's session was dismissed, the girls went straight back to the hospital.

After they shared the outcome on their front, Professor gathered his strength and broke the news of his heart condition to the girls.

"But I plan to do everything I can to work on this. Even if I fail, my work should be of use to others."

"But you'll figure something out, right dad?" Bubbles asked, voice wavering.

"I'll try, honey. I already have a few things in mind, but most of them will eventually involve some kind of surgical procedure I might not survive. For me to get even that far, however... The attacks are inevitable for now. Any one of them could be the end of it." Of "it," he noted. It was still too hard to say "of me."

Blossom nodded. Her cheeks were wet, too, but she still had her wits about her. "So either we bring your lab to the hospital, the hospital to the lab, or else listen to your heartbeat twenty-four-seven and rush you to the hospital."

Professor nodded. The last, while possible, would be asking too much of his girls. He didn't doubt they would do it, if he asked. Even Blossom's tone indicated it was a possibility she was willing to agree to, at least at the moment. "I've already spoken with the doctor about how I should go about hiring some nurses to watch over me constantly. And for buying the appropriate medical equipment and such."

Fortunately, while they were not rich, the Utonium family had done well for itself thanks to Professor Utonium's work in the scientific community. They did not worry about the expense. One of the advantages of using your money wisely was that you tended to have more on hand when you really needed it.

Buttercup smirked, attempting humor. "Well, they'd better be male nurses. Don't want any pretty young girls making your heart race."

Professor smiled. He was glad his daughters were taking this as well as they were, whether they had faith in his ability to fix himself or just couldn't accept losing him.

Professor had to stay put for the night, though.

Mojo made the mistake that night of making an assault on the girls. While he was in the middle of sharing the deadly virtues of his newest energy cannon, Buttercup finally let herself go and singlehandedly shredded the thing and landed Mojo in the hospital as well. He'd be staying a bit longer than Professor.

If the other underworld elements had wanted to take advantage of the situation, word of that brief battle probably changed their minds. And even if Princess had been strangely quiet about Blossom's "dropping in," word of that seemed to have spread as well.

In the days they spent waiting for the return of their father and the genetic retest results, Blossom took it on herself to contact the girls' various teachers and get make-up assignments.

But the very day before the girls were to return to court, Mike Believe made a surprise visit. His reluctance to use the phone made any visit a surprise one, but Blossom had trouble remembering the last time Mike had stopped by their house at all.

"Hey," Mike greeted Blossom, who had opened the door.

"Hey," she said, slightly surprised. She felt a little uncomfortable, given that the last time she'd seen or spoken to him she'd been sitting on the battered sofa on which she herself had broken down.

The thought reminded her, and she was quick to say, "Crap, I forgot about the couch. We'll--"

"Screw the couch. How're you doing?" Noting Blossom's uncertain, nervous reaction he was quick to add, "Your family, I mean?"

Blossom smiled and breathed deeply. "Well, things are going all right, I guess... Heh. Except for dad being in the hospital and quite possibly dying any day now."

Mike narrowed his eyes in concern, "Yeah, I heard something about that."

"Oh, Bubbles hasn't been in touch with you?"

Mike shrugged. He leaned on the door frame. "Not really."

At that, Blossom finally remembered to invite him in. Closing the door, she continued, "We hit the courthouse again tomorrow. I'm pretty sure we'll--they'll be cleared. Turns out we're cousins."

Mike briefly cocked an eyebrow. "No shi--" Mike started to ask. Seeing Blossom's scowl, he decided not to push it. "Really?" he corrected himself.

"Yeah. Turns out that's still legal most places. Go figure. The girls are upstairs dealing with homework backlog."

"Yeah, haven't seen any of you around school lately."

"I'm already caught up. I'm just kind of cleaning up around the house. Make yourself at home."

Mike nodded and took off his jacket, hanging it on a coat hook near the door. Blossom left him be, returning to the kitchen and running water to do the dishes that had piled up.

The girls were able to move with superhuman speed, but then there was adding superhuman accuracy and superhuman restraint of their strength, and not wrecking their surroundings with little whirlwinds and buffets of air was yet a third superhuman feat. They could still pull off all those things, but the more power they threw at something the quicker it wore them down. Maybe Blossom could get the dishes done in a flash and recover with a few contented minutes on the living room sofa with a pint of ice cream, but time to think was always nice.

Forcing herself to let go of her time was sometimes equally important.

Blossom turned when she heard the pantry door open. Mike pulled out the broom and dustpan tucked aside there.

"What are you doing?" Blossom asked.

"Making myself at home. Sounds like they're still behind, so I may as well leave 'em alone. I can always pop in later."

Blossom crossed her arms, "Don't feel like you have to help. I'm doing just fine."

Mike shrugged as he started sweeping. "Never said you weren't. Sink's getting full."

After the non-sequitur registered, Blossom turned around and shut off the water before it overflowed. As it was, she had to let a little water down the drain. She glared at Mike with narrow eyes for what his distraction had almost made her do, but he wasn't even looking her way. She chuckled, smiled, and started washing, not surprised.

"Parents back?" she asked.

"Yup. Wedding went fine."

"Why didn't you go?"

"Never really liked that aunt. Can't say she cares for me, either."

"Wow," Blossom said, dripping sarcasm. "You mean there're people who _don't_ enjoy your company?"

"Is that your way of telling me to piss off?" he asked casually.

"Not really. I figure someone like you is just going to do whatever you feel like anyway."

"A lot of people assume that."

"They right?"

A pause. "Sometimes."

There were a few minutes of near-silence as Blossom worked to fill the drying rack and Mike continued sweeping. Eventually Blossom spoke again. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind the interruption. After this long I'm not sure they're even still doing homework. In fact, I'd be surprised."

Had she looked, she would have seen him shrug again. "No big deal. I'm sure those two can get by without me. If they can't help each other through this, then it's all been for nothing anyway, right?"

Blossom stopped washing. "Is that why you're here?" She drew her hands from the water and grabbed a towel. Turning around, she started drying them and Mike stopped sweeping, resting his hands on the handle of the upright broom. "You think _I_ need help?"

Yet another shrug. "I dunno. Do you?"

Blossom threw the towel down onto the counter. It was the only outward sign of her mood, as she seemed calm otherwise. "I'm doing just fine, thanks. And if I change my mind about that, I've got my sisters and my dad to help me out."

"For what it's worth, no, I didn't come here for you. Just the same, I am here, and I'm happy to do what I can. Housework or otherwise."

"Maybe this sounds strange coming from someone who's been risking her life in public service since kindergarten, but given your track record I have to ask why you think you need to pitch in."

Mike leaned against the counter behind him and gave it some thought. "I suppose you girls are like a second family. Or maybe you're right and I'm still being selfish. Maybe I'm just here because I feel left out."

"So you're saying you count me as part of that family?"

Mike smiled. "Hey, every family has its...bossy big sister."

He'd been about to use a different "b" word, albeit in a good-natured teasing way, but checked himself. Bubbles would have laughed. Buttercup would have caught on quickly enough. Blossom, though, had never been a fan of his cavalier sense of humor.

Blossom looked at the floor for a while, smiling. She didn't say anything, just shaking her head and turning back to the sink.

When Mike later emptied the dustpan into the trash can, Blossom asked, "How do you feel about those two?"

"Being together?" Mike tried to confirm. When Blossom didn't answer right away, Mike took it for a "yes." "I don't think it bothers me. You?"

Blossom paused. "Not really."

"How 'bout your dad?"

Blossom breathed in deeply and sighed just as deeply. "I don't know about him, sometimes. I think he did a good job raising us. He steered us straight, but I'd never call him strict. He's always been so forgiving. But like I said, I think he did well.

"I hate to say it like this, but really, who can stop us from doing what we want to do except ourselves? Self-restraint is something we had to learn sooner or later. So it's no big surprise all he cares about is whether we're all happy with it. He worries--I worry--that this might be one last little childish fantasy of theirs that'll end in tears."

"You still worry about that after everything they've been through?"

"Sure I do. Look at you and Bubbles. Bubbles knows you about as well as she knows Buttercup, and that turned out to be a mistake."

Mike winced at the sting of Blossom's remark, but she was still focused on the dishes and missed it. It was just as well. Mike doubted it had been intentional. The Utonium father wasn't the only one with the occasional difficulty in softening his words.

Mike noticed the rack getting full despite more dishes yet to be washed and stood beside Blossom, grabbing the towel and starting to dry. They didn't speak for a while.

With the pile thinning, Mike finally worked up the nerve to ask, "You ever been in love? I know you dated that guy once or twice, but that's not what I mean."

"You mean Rick? I'm not sure," Blossom said. She meant to say she wasn't sure what he meant, but that was close enough.

"I guess it doesn't matter," Mike responded. "Love is probably too complicated for a yes or no answer anyhow."

Blossom chuckled. "Only in this house."

"Yeah. I see even you got pulled into it."

Mike regretted his statement immediately. That Blossom just as quickly stopped washing didn't help. He went back to drying, hoping she'd catch on and let it go if she wanted. He wasn't going to apologize, though. At least not until he was sure he'd crossed the line. Besides that, apologizing would just clash with the "lovable asshole" image he worked so hard on.

After a few uncomfortable moments Blossom spoke up. "I guess you don't know this either, but half the people on the tapes from that night weren't us. We're pretty sure Him had something to do with it, but we haven't seen his face in years. With Bubbles and Buttercup, we think he just wanted them to say things worth recording..."

Her unspoken "with me" hung like a weight in the air. In the end, she decided to leave it unspoken. "Maybe I could've ended up like them. All this has brought us closer together. Even I'd forgotten how good it can be. But, personally, I'm happy having sisters. And nothing more."

She started washing again. Mike had by then run out of dishes to dry and stood patiently at her side. They were nearly through, now.

"You asked about Rick earlier. I don't think I really loved him. Maybe Bubbles was right when she told me you just have to try when it comes to figuring this stuff out, because that's about what I did. I tried. I didn't feel anything special. I decided I'd rather..." Blossom switched to a sing-song mocking voice. "Be more constructive with my time." Mike wasn't sure who she was mocking. His best guess was she'd taken a shot at herself.

"I've never really felt like I needed someone like that in my life. Maybe that'll change someday. I'm pretty sure I'll be perfectly happy by myself. If, by chance, someone comes by that makes me happier, so much the better."

"Sounds lonely."

"Why? I mean, look at it this way: I've never had sex." The word didn't hurt so much with her sisters out of the picture. "I'm fine keeping it that way, too. And I don't usually need anyone to hold me up or help me out. When I do... Well, it's rare enough I don't know if the hassle of spending my life with someone is really worth all that. I think some people just work differently. Need different things to be happy. Maybe some people are happier this way, and maybe I'm one of them. What's the point of having a husband or a boyfriend you only want to bother with every once in a while?"

Mike wasn't about to argue the point. One thing he did agree on was that there were all kinds of people. Besides, even if people changed, or were wrong about who they thought they were, that was for them to figure out. For her to decide.

The dishes were finally done. It was starting to get dark outside.

As Blossom toweled off her hands, Mike asked, "On the offhand chance that this is the last time you and I have a civil conversation, mind if I hang out a while longer?"

Blossom paused to consider her response, which ended up beginning with a hug. Mike, while mildly surprised, still managed to wrap his arm around her in turn before the brief moment ended.

"Just shut up and go upstairs," Blossom said.


	22. Unfinished

**Unfinished**

Before they knew it the holidays were approaching. Thanksgiving was a few weeks off, and Professor Utonium was still with them. While she promised to spend more time with her sisters and usually held to those promises, Blossom spent most of her time working with her father towards a solution. One of their four full-time nurses always hovering in the background made it hard to forget what they were working for.

The case against Bubbles and Buttercup had been summarily dropped. The public response hadn't been so bad as they'd feared. Saving the world first from an alien invasion and then from the machinations a magical artifact which had taken possession of a young Hawaiian boy probably helped smooth things over a little.

There were still those who, even now, cast sour glances and taunts their way. But a few weeks after the trial ended, Bubbles received a cautious call from her friend Katie, wondering if she wanted to hang out.

When the dust settled, it seemed most of the people who had looked up to them continued to do so. Their friends remained so.

It became easy to ignore the rest.

Bubbles mused about these things on the couch, watching television with Buttercup. She wondered about her sister, too. They hadn't been intimate again; neither of them brought it up. Maybe they were more cuddly, but there had been times like that even before Buttercup had come forward. About all that it came to was that if anyone asked either of them, they'd say that, yes, they were most definitely _in_ love. That and their kisses sometimes went beyond mere friendliness.

Were things really all that different, aside from their father's health? Did they all overestimate where things would end up? Or had all of them more feared the change itself?

Bubbles would soon after find a moment alone with Blossom and ask her, as Bubbles was wont to do when she felt she had all the pieces and still couldn't put them together.

"Well, as for you and your sister," Blossom started before pausing to recall some memory. Despite the genetics involved they still considered each other siblings. For the most part, anyway. "I seem to recall you once told me it's all about what you feel, what you _can_ feel, and what you choose. I guess you figured out the first two. As for the rest, sure things have changed. Our whole family is closer, now. I feel bad it took all this to make that happen again, but I believe we're stronger for it."

To Bubbles, that made sense enough.

The next morning, just before the sun peeked over the horizon, Bubbles stole into Buttercup's room and woke her up. Without a word Bubbles wrapped her in a bathrobe and led her outside. A short flight later they stood together on the skyscraper Bubbles sometimes enjoyed the sunrise from. Up there they shared a kiss Bubbles meant to remind herself--to remind both of them--of the choice they had made.

Of course, the several webcams pointed at that spot caught that moment, and while it didn't make it into the brochures or onto posters, if you look hard enough you can find it on post cards in some shops. Precious few who bought them, though, and who understood what it showed, had a true understanding of the fire and pain that had been endured to reach that point.

**Author's Afterward**

To begin with, there were a few points I didn't manage to squeeze in. First of these is possibly important to some readers, and that is the question as to whether Him influenced Bubbles's reaction. The answer is no. Furthermore, I believe Him wouldn't have chosen to interfere that way. Tempting Blossom was just that--temptation. Not control. Even Blossom's reactions were her own. With Bubbles, Him would have gladly held back to watch things unfold. The stage had already been set and any outcome would have pleased him. Him considered those first few days "perfectly delicious."

Second is just a minor, unimportant thing, but it was on my to-do list and didn't make it, so here it is: I wanted one of the girls (probably Bubbles) to make the comment "poor boy" regarding Mike having to sleep in the bed Bubbles and Buttercup had shared. Bubbles and Buttercup probably shared that comment at some point, but not in any of the conversations that were written here. There were more important things to accomplish.

Third, yes, I realize the "spouses clause" of the contract is meaningless if people can be dealt with before they reach such a state. However, that little "indirectly" (present in the contingency clause but not the main contract) closes many doors. In fact, it is so broad that it would not have been agreed to at all without that limiting time span.

And while not exactly something I left out, I apologize for the genetics cop-out. While I enjoy darker, grittier stories with more dismal ends, I felt the most appropriate end for this was a happy one.

I'd like to know how those girls managed to get through their brief period of powerlessness in their youth. I'd like to see where the Professor's struggles to extend his life will lead him, not to mention why and how he made a deal with Him in the first place. I'm really curious to find out just what Mojo is up to, because I have the feeling his usual routine of overconfident attacks doomed to failure are now simply cover to keep the girls from prying into something he's working on in secret. I'd even like to find out if Blossom and Mike can move further still past their differences (even if the answer is no).

All the same, I will for now (and perhaps for good) leave this rest as it stands. I hope you enjoyed reading, and I hope more to have excited your imaginations and led you to think. Both imagination and thought are frightening, dangerous things, but little else has such power as they.


End file.
